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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



LIFE AND LIGHT 
FROM ABOVE 



SOLON LAUER 




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BOSTON 

LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS 

1895 



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COPYKIGIIT, 1S94, 

By SOLON LAUEK. 



All rights reserved. 



Nortoooli iPrrss : 

J. S. Gushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith. 

Boston, Mass., U.S.A. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

THE SOUL'S WAY OF LIFE: 

Literature and Love 3 

An Invocation , 4 

Life from Within 5 

The Spirit of the Pines 6 

The Philosophy of Power 7 

The Soul's True Nature 9 

The Soul's True Life 10 

Life Infinite and Omnipresent 12 

The Way of Life 14 

Holy Ground 15 

A Song of the Soul 16 

The Aim of Life 17 

The Secret of Happiness 19 

Contests of the Mind 24 

The Soul's Native Air 25 

Saving Power of Truth 26 

Faith and Knowledge 27 

Personality 27 

The Power of the Soul 29 

Power 30 

Resurrexi 31 

Our Divine Relationship 31 

The Soul's Freedom 33 

The Soul Omnipotent 33 

The Power of Faith ,..,.. 34 

The Knowledge of the Self .,,,... 35 

The Ideal Life , ,. 36 

The Better Way 38 

The Soul's Blossoming 38 

iii 



IV CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Ideal Targets , . . . 42 

The Soul's Leading , . . , 43 

The Soul's Visions 45 

The Voice of the Soul 47 

The Illumined Life . . . , 48 

Self-Government ..o ...... . 50 

A Gospel of Nature 53 

Time and the Soul 54 

The Word made Flesh 56 

Aspiration of the Soul 57 

Making Tracks for the Unknown . 58 

The Eiches of the Soul 59 

True Bonds of Friendship .... = . 60 

Health 63 

Clothing 66 

Artificial Heat . 67 

Food 69 

Home and Furnishings 70 

The Source of Health 72 

Self-Culture 74 

Ethics and Action 78 

Physics and Metaphysics 78 

The Public Man 80 

The Mystery of Life 81 

The True Church 84 

Kenunciation 86 

The Babbler and the Scorner 87 

SOCIETY AND THE SOUL: 

Law of Association 91 

Slavery and Union 93 

Love and Money . . 94 

The Individual and the State 95 

Love and Legislation 103 

LITERATURE AND LIFE : 

The Society of Books 107 

True Publication 109 

Books and Books 110 



CONTENTS. V 

PAGE 

Obscene Books Ill 

Self in Literature , . . 112 

The Study of Self 113 

Rhetorical Authority 116 

Literature and Action 117 

Books and Nature 117 

The Personal and the Universal 118 

Literature and the Soul 119 

Originality in Writing 122 

Feeling in Literature 124 

Thoreau 125 

Pure Literature 129 

Inspiration 130 

The Book of Life 130 

Books and Character 131 

Writing and Living 133 

Learning and Ethics 135 

Education 136 

The Office of Poetry 138 

PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL; 

A Paradise of the Pacific 140 

The Divine Self 141 

The Society of Solitude 142 

Man the Light-Bearer 142 

The Prince of Nature 143 

The World of Sound 145 

Man and Nature . . . • 146 

Wave-Symphonies 149 

Fishing for Beauty 150 

The Music of the Soul 151 

The Spirit's World 153 

A Morning Picture 154 

The Law of Labor 154 

The True Heaven 155 

Drifting 156 

Traveling Truthward 158 

Health and Hunger 160 

Spirits of the Night- Winds ...,.,. 161 



VI COKTENTS. 

PAGE 

Sphere-Music 164 

Ideal Food 165 

The Life of Peace 167 

The True Freedom 169 

Habitation 170 

The Spirit of the Sea 172 

LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL: 

Into the Wilderness 174 

Chateaugay Chasm 174 

Chateaugay Lakes 175 

Saranac and Lake Placid 179 

The Tent under the Pines 180 

Wild Voices 181 

A Metaphysical Smudge 182 

Man a Stranger in Nature 183 

Vacation Methods 184 

Storm-Music 185 

Time-Philosophy 186 

Providence and Trust 188 

Under the Stars 190 

The Soul's Yearning for Wild Nature . 191 

Ascent of Whiteface 192 

The Lord's Day in the Woods 193 

I^ost 193 

Civilization tried by Solitude 194 

The World as an Ink-Pot 195 

A Three Days' Tramp 195 

Natural Food 197 

Ausable Lakes and the Keene Valley 197 

The Grave of Old John Brown 198 

The Game Question 200 

Racing with the Hours 201 

Thoughts of Ideal Life 201 

A Rustic Lodge 203 

Morning in the Mountains 204 

Camp-fire 'Dreams 205 

Rainy-day Reveries . . . . , 205 

Table Talk and Table Fare . , , , , 207 



CONTENTS. vii 

PAGE 

Decorations of Nature 207 

The Inner Voice 208 

Character-Building 209 

Morning Voices 210 

God in Nature 211 

Spiritual Laws 211 

The Real Pagans 212 

SOUL-VOICES : 

The Soul of the Poet 213 

The Cup of Love 215 

To a Tree 217 

The Sea and the Soul 217 

Joy of My Love 218 

God is over All ... 219 

The Song of the Sirens 220 

The Name of My Heart-Queen 221 

The Ideal Love 222 

Love's Plaint 222 

The Wreck of the " Thunderbolt " 223 

I had a Friend 225 

Thou Dreamer 226 

Thorn and Tendril 227 

Love's Surety 228 

A Meeting and a Parting 229 

To the New Moon 230 

Love's Miracle 230 

Love's Resurrection 231 

Too Late thy Love 231 

To a Bumble Bee 232 

Dear Friend 232 

Infinite Spirit 233 

The Soul's Protection 233 

Nirvana 234 

Sad Voices 235 

To the Bride of My Soul 235 

Spirits of Song 236 

The Home of the Soul 237 

Love's Beauty 238 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Love's Presence 239 

The Knowledge of the Law 239 

Mist-Drapery 240 

Love Divine 240 

The Soul and the World 241 

Night and the Soul 241 

Wonder of the Soul 242 

Swifter than Arrow's Flight 243 

Dust and the Soul 244 

Out of the Infinite 244 

Not in Time 245 

November Storm- Clouds 246 

November Sunset 246 

The Soul's Mystery 246 

Sunset and the Soul 247 

Owen Brown 248 

Divine Possession 249 

Sphinx-Faces 249 

For Whom is the Unheard Song 249 



LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 



THE SOUL'S WAY OF LIFE. 



LITEEATUEE AND LOYE. 

The test of all literature is its power to uplift and 
comfort human life. Truth is sacred only when it serves 
the needs of men. Inspiration comes through the opened 
gates of love. When the soul lifts up its gates, even lifts 
up its everlasting doors, that the King of Glory may come 
in, it is filled with a morning splendor which pales the 
bursting glory of the day. 

Who is this King of Glory ? It is the spirit of Love, 
mighty in battling with the sorrows of the world. He 
who would serve the world through literature must be 
filled with the glory of this spirit of Love. That Glory 
must shine in every sentence, making it luminous with 
the light of Love. 

How shall this spirit of Love be invited into the soul ? 
By consecration. Let the house of the soul be cleansed 
of every taint of selfishness and worldliness, and the 
spirit of Love will enter in and abide there. Every per- 
sonal aim shuts the door to this spirit. Consecration, 
pure and lofty, to the welfare of mankind, invites it. 
Eorgetfulness of self invites it. What are hunger, cold, 
privation, suffering ? What are the detractions and en- 
vies of men ? Nothing, nothing, to the consecrated soul. 
Secure in the protection of God, the soul trembles not at 
any threat of the world. Pain and death lose their sting, 
and the grave its victory, when the soul is fixed on Truth 
and Love, and consecrated to human service. 

3 



4 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

AN IT^VOCATIOK 

O Spirit of Song, Spirit of Eloquence, Spirit of Love, 
chant through me thy sweet and tender refrains, to com- 
fort the aching hearts of men and women ! Out of thy 
infinite tender love, out of thy boundless compassion, 
yea, out of thy all-seeing wisdom, which knoweth the end 
from the beginning, and can see the Light that is hid 
from mortal eyes, still shining above every cloud of sor- 
row, sing for human souls that are sad ; chant sweet re- 
frains that shall descend like dews of heaven upon parched 
and thirsty fields, making the flowers of joy to spring 
up where sorrow has made her desolation. Behold, the 
harp-strings of my soul are well attuned for thee ; breathe 
thou over them, and let sweet music arise therefrom. 

Heart of Mankind, beat into my words your throb- 
bing hopes ! Let me dip my pen into your warm blood, 
that I may write somewhat else than mere cold words ! 
Give to me your secrets, your loves, your yearnings, yea, 
your sorrows and your disappointments also, that I may 
make poems and chants of them ; that I may show you 
how noble are your pulsings of love and affection ; how 
divine your pity and compassion; how beautiful your 
tender charity ; how sweet your secret longings after 
holiness ! Impart to me your inmost secrets of thought 
and feeling ; your shy, un whispered yearnings for truth 
and good. And Love, thou spirit that dost dwell in 
this heart-temple, make me also thy confidant ! Whisper 
to me thj^ longings, thy trembling hopes ; show me thy 
pure visions of joy ; and when thou art sad, and utterly 
bereaved, let me dry thy tears, if I may, with tender 
words of consolation. When disappointment has clouded 
thee, and the angel on whom thou hadst fixed thine eyes 
disappears in the far horizon of thy life, leaving thee 
sitting lonely by the tide-washed strand, striking mourn- 
ful notes from thy golden lyre, then let me sing to thee, 



THE SOULS WAY OF LIFE. 5 

Love ; let me chant thy grief for thee, to relieve thy 
over-burdenecl heart, lest it burst in agony ; and then, 
when the calm of the morning sea, stilled by the brooding 
spirit of night, has entered into thy soul, let me chant to 
thee a more hopeful strain, of joys that wait for thee 
beyond this Time-horizon. Poor spirit, sitting lonely by 
the shore, with the sobbing waves chanting thy mournful 
mood, and the mist-laden airs sighing around thee, let 
me lift thee up, and take thy golden harp, and with a 
tender, loving hand strike out some chords of joy and 
triumph to cheer and revive thy heart. I know how 
desolate thy heart-temple is, when its deity has departed ; 

1 know the -silence, the agony, the poured-out, piteous 
cry, the wild out-reaching of the hands in utter darkness, 
the black despair, the sense of death-shadows closing 
round ; I know all the moods and cries of the soul when 
love has left it groping in the silent dark ; I know how 
empty seem the world and life ; how far-off and unreal 
the fact of heaven; I know these all, my poor, lone 
spirit, sitting by the sobbing waves, listening to their 
mournful chant. And may I not, then, sing to thee, and 
comfort thee as I was comforted, when out of the silence 
and the night certain songs stole forth and crept into 
my heart, and revived its ebbing life, and set it pulsing 
again with hope and joy? my lonely spirit, look up 
and listen to me ; and I will sing thee a song which shall 
comfort thee. So shall my singing be blessed; for it 
shall be the love of God, and the comfort of God, and 
the peace of God which passeth understanding. 

LIFE FEOM WITHIN. 
A TREE whispered a secret to me this morning. I stood 
with my arm around it, my cheek laid against its rough 
bark, listening if I might not hear its heart of life throb- 
bing in response to mine. I heard a voice coming up out 
of the silent but light-filled eternity, through countless 



6 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

ages of creation, and uttering itself forth through this 
solemn monitor of nature. It said: ''AH life is from 
within. God creates from inner centers. Seek not with- 
out for power. It lies within. Thou canst not find God 
in any distant land, in any person wise or holy, in any 
book, ancient or modern. Thou wilt find Him in thine 
own soul, in all His splendor and power. As He has 
organized the oak into the tiny acorn, so has He organized 
the Divine Man into the soul. Call upon That, call upon 
That, and thou shalt stand a god in time and space ; rul- 
ing the earth and all things therein. God cannot help 
thee save through thyself. Claim thy possibilities, and 
they are realized ; neglect them, they lie sleeping forever. 
Now thou hast received the secret of Power. Use it for 
the welfare of thy fellow-men, and the kingdom of heaven 
is at hand." 

THE SPIRIT OF THE PINES. 

I STOOD one spring morning under the pines in the 
Dorchester woods, and listened to their whispering voices. 
The crow's harsh but invigorating note sounded wild 
above the tree-tops. A flock of doves rose with great 
flapping of wings and soared away. A hawk sailed finely 
above the woods, describing planet-like curves. The very 
air vibrated with life, and it seemed to me absurd that 
any creature should be sick or unhappy in the wide world. 
With laws of beauty and health permeating the universe, 
how does man contrive to evade them? Alas ! We know 
not; but somehow, artful dodger that he is, he does 
hide himself from them, and thus miss of his rightful 
heritage. 

I lifted up my soul and touched the Infinite Life as I 
stood there under the spreading boughs of the pines. A 
sea of Light swam over head, and I below did lift up my 
soul to bathe in it. The things of the world grew very 
dim. I looked with open eyes but saw not, for the vision 



of my soul was fastened on things not visible to mortal 
sight. Immovable, fixed, with upturned face, I stood 
rapt in spiritual vision, my soul communing with the 
Spirit of Life. Every atom in my body thrilled to the 
music of the unseen Life that was throbbing through me. 
It seemed to me that I need never be sick or unhappy, 
never see death, nevermore know Time or Space ; but 
that in this mood I might become as the gods, knowing 
not sin or death. I became one with the Spirit of Nature. 
The trees, the blue sky, were transfigured. Air and 
branches were melted into Spirit. Clouds floated in the 
blue sky, but they were to me Thoughts. I saw that all 
is Mind, and that there is no death. I • penetrated the 
arcana of nature, and learned the secrets of the gods. I 
saw things unlawful and impossible to speak. 

I returned to Time and Sense with a new pulse of life, 
a new sense of my relations to Creative Energy. I per- 
ceived that God is as near to us as the air we breathe ; 
and that by a conscious recognition of His Presence Ave 
may make Him seen and felt of all men. I determined 
to live more strictly, and to seek this Spirit of Life with 
more persistent zeal. 

THE PHILOSOPHY OF POWEE. 

Why must we lead this life of shreds and patches ? 
Why not put on the seamless robe of divinity, and be the 
god we really are ? We are not this body, this brain, 
this heart, this hand, this thinking and feeling. We are 
somewhat else than any or all of these. 

ni}^ friend, why are you so cast down ? Why do you 
so weakly yield to Fate ? Stand erect, stretch forth the 
hand of power, command Fate ! Else ! Come forth from 
thy sepulcher ! Burst thy grave clothes ; let Life surge 
through thy limbs ! Come forth into the great, beautiful 
world, and be a resistless Force ! a never-resting Energy, 
to bring forth Order out of Chaos, Eight out of Wrong, 



8 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

Beauty out of Darkness and Imperfection ! Why be an 
excrescence on the body of the Universe ? a parasite, a 
fungus growth, a wart ? Be a Soul ! a glad, rich, beauti- 
ful Soul, shining with the ineffable light of God ! Out 
of the Flame-deeps, out of mystic, thrilling light-oceans 
of Life, camest thou forth to Act upon the world. Thou 
art not a Thing. Thou art a Soul, on fire of the Spirit, 
flaming forth out of Darkness to make the world all 
Light. Not mountains piled on thee shall hold thee 
down ! Though the heavens be rolled together as a 
scroll, though the sun and moon be turned to blood, 
though chaos and night reclaim the world and all therein, 
do thou stand fast on thy eternal Pedestal ; Thou shalt 
not be moved ! Thou wast established from eternity, be- 
fore the world was. Thy foundations were laid in God. 
Thou, Flame-spirit, Thou, Presence ineffable, hide not 
thyself like a poor taper beneath a bushel ! Station 
thyself upon a hill-top where thou mayest be a Beacon ! 
Thou Star of Beauty, thou Orb of Purity, set in the 
heavens, hide not thy beautiful light ! Shine, shine, 
though clouds obscure thee, though other orbs eclipse 
thee ! Thou art not to dim thy radiance because of these. 
Hurl thy Light-lances into the ranks of darkness ! The 
ranks of Chaos shall be broken, they shall be put to flight 
before thy all-resistless Might ! Uplift thy mighty form ! 
Eaise thine arm of Power and smite the Giant! Thou 
shalt have the victory : thou shalt cut off the Monster's 
head ! AVith the sword of the Spirit thou shalt put all 
enemies of Truth to flight. Mutter no more the creeds 
of fear. Tremble no longer at hell's distant muttering 
thunder. That noise is the toppling of hell's battlements, 
besieged by angels of Light. That cry that trembles 
faintly on the distant air is the pean of released souls, 
whose dungeon doors have swung wide open, and whose 
chains have dropped from hands and feet. The world 
awakes ! Man has discovered that Power is his by the 



THE soul's way OF LLFE. 9 

claiming ; that his nature is Love and Wisdom ; and that 
the oracle of life is within the temple of the soul. 

This is the philosophy of Power ; the divine philoso- 
phy which converts Man from a subject to a king; from 
a victim of Fate to Fate itself, holding the issues of life 
and death. 

Through thee, O Man, Creation works. Thou art not 
creature, but Creator. Thou art one with the Cause of 
things : the Primal Energy, which shaped the world and 
all therein ; which gleams in the stars, blossoms in the 
fields, sings in the notes of the birds. Thou art Life. 
Thinkest thou that Death awaits thee ? ' Tis but an 
Appearance, a Phantasy. 'Tis the ebbing of thy Tide, 
leaving thy shells and weeds upon the shore of Time. 
Thou art not the weeds, the shells, the pebbles. Thou 
art the Ocean, and Life and Death are but the ebbing 
and flowing of thy tide. 

THE SOUL'S TEUE NATUHE. 

The soul is made aware of her divine nature by every 
act of self-control. Philosophy may affirm, reason may 
argue the supremacy of the soul, but I know it only 
when I exercise it. When my higher nature is active 
it is self-conscious. When it is dormant it is uncon- 
scious, and no mere argument can reach and wake 
it. In moments of divine awakening I know that I am 
not this brain, this heart, these nerves, with all their 
thoughts, passions, sensations. I am a spectator in the 
mind's arena, watching the games and conflicts of life. 
I am not conquered in the body's downfall, wounded 
in the body's hurt, affected in the pains or pleasures of 
the mind. I am present, but not a part of these busy 
scenes. Out of Silence I came, out of mystic Darkness, 
to view these games of life ; and when my desire for 
these is satisfied I shall retire again to my own domain. 
Darkness, Silence, did I say? But only to the mortal 



10 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

consciousness. The vast realm out of which I came to 
play these games upon the shore of Time is unknown 
only to the mind of flesh. The soul was born not, nor 
can ever die. She cometh not, nor goeth; but forever 
and forever doth Remain. Fixed at the center of the 
Universe, which lives and moves from her, she change th 
not, through all the centuries. Time fadeth, starry sys- 
tems pass away, sound gives place to silence, light to 
darkness, life to seeming death; but ever doth the soul 
remain, unmoved, unchanged. She visiteth the shores 
of many worlds, and sporteth mid the waves of life. 
She knoweth all the lives that rise in beauteous order 
out of Time. The sea-shell's tints, the fishes' dart- 
ing life, the wild joy of the sea-bird, sporting with the 
breaking waves, the savage beasts that leap and prowl 
among the jungle wilds, the eagle's soaring joy, — all 
these the great soul knoweth, for she lives them all. 

THE SOUL'S TRUE LIFE. 

We are all like children in the world. We cry and 
fret because the gods or Fortune do not grant us what 
we wish. We reach out child-like to clutch the moon 
and stars, and will not be comforted, because we ma}^ 
not reach them. The good soul in us whispers peace, 
but we will have no peace, but strife only, because we 
have not learned to curb our desires and control our per- 
turbations. Nerves and brain vibrate in jangling discord, 
and we suffer tortures, born of our feeble will. Why 
not put on the purple robe of royal mastery, and be the 
lords of life we were designed to be? With a sweet 
enticement the soul beckons us to enter upon our heri- 
tage of divine life; but we dally and delay, and linger 
among shadows, where the forms of evil lurk, and pesti- 
lent vapors rise. Above us the sun rides in his golden 
car, scattering light and joy; but we wrap our mantle 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 11 

of weakness around us, and sit cloked with our petty 
griefs, refusing the glad life that might be ours. 

the splendor of this royal life which the soul 
would have us lead ! Visions of it break upon me with 
a tender beauty like that of dawn. Music fills it, beauty 
envelops it, wisdom whispers it her secrets. I have 
no language to picture this divine, ideal life. I wrong it 
with my words. It is too high for speech. The soul 
knoweth it, and delicately hints of it, amid the coarse- 
ness of our daily life. As the light-touched cloud floats 
in the sky, so doth the image of this beautiful life float 
in the soul, radiant with dazzling splendor. There is 
a Light shining from above, which pours its celestial 
glory over the dream-visions of the soul ; and this Light 
no words can picture. The soul must see it, with open 
vision ; the heart must feel it, with secret thrills of joy. 
The saints have known it; and when the light of this 
world turns to darkness, there in the sky shines this 
Divine Light, and the soul bathes in it, and is glorified. 

It is for us to live in this Light, and not in the dark- 
ness of the senses. Let us open our eyes, and lift them 
up to look upon this fair vision. Let us open wide the 
portals of our soul, that this celestial Light may stream 
in, to fill us with music and joy. The heaven that men 
have pictured waits to enter us when we will open our 
heart to receive it. At the door stands and knocks the 
pleading Spirit, with a mighty love. Out from the Infi- 
nite heart of the All-Father goeth forth the tender invi- 
tation of Love to the soul, inviting it to rise out of 
darkness into Light, out of discord into Infinite Har- 
mony, out of grief and pain into Joy Eternal. The 
Brahmic bliss, the joy of heaven, are but poor expres- 
sions for this high state of the soul, when brooding Love 
hath called it home, and its abode is in the heart of Infi- 
nite Peace. Sweeter than star-music is the tone of that 
Voice which speaks to the soul out of the Heart of 



12 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

Peace. Its music doth dispel the discords of the world, 
and the soul charmed by it heareth not the siren songs 
of earth. 

If we would but bring our souls into sympathy with 
those currents of celestial life that flow above and around 
us we might be filled with a pure joy and peace. The 
life of Jesus Christ represents to millions of men and 
women that pure life of the soul in harmony with God. 
Amid superstitions dark and terrible, amid thoughtless 
clamoring of priests, amid fanatical wild cries of zealous 
apostles, there has lived a sweet, tender music of love 
and wisdom, coming down over stormy centuries from 
that modest Nazarene to bless our hearts to-day with 
peace and joy. Still doth He point the Way to Perfect 
Life. Still are His words the notes of a Sphere-music 
which sounds above the noises of this world. Still are 
they Words of Life, thrilling with the soul's pure fire. 

LIFE INFINITE AND OMNIPEESENT. 

How shall I utter in words my sense of the presence 
of Life, touching me through every blade of grass, every 
leaf, every bud and blossom ! These stems and leaves, 
these twigs and branches, fade from my sight, and I 
sense only the beautiful Life which forms and inhabits 
them. The Divine Soul is embodied in all these, and 
speaks to me through their sweet language. 

Here is Original Beauty. Out of these grasses and 
weeds the imagination constructs infinite forests. Tropi- 
cal jungles, wild, tangled groves, filled with curious crea- 
tures ; a world primitive, new-created, in which I am 
another Adam, or new man, privileged to name all things 
from my perception of their nature and qualities. 

Into this tangled wildwood I pass, exploring my new 
world. The Divine Laws reveal themselves to me on 
every side. Here is my Bible, my Revelation of Truth, 
my Holy Law, expounded out of every leaf and grass-blade. 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 13 

I perceive the Avorking of the Divine Mind. The vast 
Intelligence out of which came forth these wondrou sly- 
constructed forms fronts me here, and I prostrate my- 
self before Its Holy Presence. Life, life, vibrating in 
sweetest music, surrounds me. I am wholly swallowed 
up in Life. I perceive that there is nothing else than 
Life ; thrilling, throbbing, in every form the senses seize 
upon; circulating around and through me, in thousand- 
fold invisible currents. I perceive that this body and 
brain of mine are products of that same Infinite Life 
and Intelligence which shapes these beautiful forms 
around me ; that I am a part of the Kosmic Order ; that 
the celestial systems are my kin ; that worlds and weeds 
are floating in One Spirit, forms of one Primal Mind. 
This earth,' clothed so wondrously with grass and herbs, 
groves and forests, is not the solid ball it seems. It is a 
floating mist ; and like a summer cloud it changeth and 
passeth away. What wind brought it hither from the 
unknoAvn Deeps of Space ? Like a rain-drop falling 
from a floating cloud, this earth is falling from a vaster 
sky. 

Time ! Space ! mystery of Infinity ! Out of 
the vast Unknown, into the little Known ! Out of deeps 
abysmal, out of Mystery and Xight, come forth the 
images of Thought, clothing themselves in the dream- 
drapery of earth. Unfixed are all things, in the soul's 
fierce tire. Afloat and drifting are Ave, earth ; drifting, 
yet guided. Shimmering forms of Time and the World, 
ye fool me not with your enchantments. I know you for 
Appearances, you beauteous Forms; and as I gaze, 
your features change and fade. 

Amid this Avhirling, seething sea, what things are 
Peal, soul ? Is there not somewhat stable beneath all 
these Appearances ? Is all Illusion ? All Deceit ? 

Life Is, and Mind, and Forming Will, which out of 
Mist brings forth these changing forms. The Builder 



14 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

dies not in the falling house. Life, in its builded Uni- 
verse, looks ever on the changing forms, and ever buildeth 
new. It ceaseth not to bnild at any time. Change is its 
law, and one eternal circle is its mode. Decay is growth, 
destrnction is creation, death is life ; and nowhere in the 
Vast Unknown doth motion to fixation yield. Flowing, 
flowing, are the streams of Force ; heaving, rolling, break- 
ing ever are the waves of the boundless Sea whence 
worlds are floated into Time. 

And in the human soul the Universe repeats itself. 
The motions of the Mind repeat the flowing currents of 
the Kosmic Force ; the stars appear as Thoughts, shin- 
ing in beauty out of unknown Night; and loves and 
hates, affections and repulsions, prayers and fears and 
adorations all, are but the motions of celestial waves, 
rolling and breaking on the soul's deep sea. O soul, 
couldst thou but know thyself, amid the fleeting phan- 
tasies of the world ! Infinite art thou, thy nature older 
than the world or Time. Starry systems were born of 
thee, and universes live and die whilst thou dost con- 
template thy work. 

THE WAY OF LIFE. 

I APPREHEND in the midst of the confusions and dis- 
cords of the world a Way of Life, which bringeth Peace 
to perturbed spirits, Joy to hearts af&icted. It is a 
straight and narrow way, but trodden smooth by saintly 
feet in bygone ages. The holy ones of earth have trod 
this Path, seeking the soul's domain. With earnest seek- 
ing they have found this Way, and walked upon it by 
the soul's own light. Ever the soul enchanteth, ever the 
Spirit whisp'reth, and hearts by love are drawn to seek 
the Perfect Way. Music sweet and angel voices sound 
the praises of the Perfect Life. The soul's own language 
uttereth it, in prayer and hymn ; and with a tongue en- 
chanted by Truth's high music she publisheth it abroad. 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 15 

Sweetly the Bibles of the world have sung this song celes- 
tial ; the chant of Truth Divine, which maketh wise the 
simple and saveth them that are lost. 

Out of the Gates of Silence, which open on the World 
Unknown, the sweet refrain of Truth's celestial music 
floateth ; and out of gathered clouds, made luminous by 
mystic Light, the radiant forms of angels do descend, 
bringing their messages of joy and peace, good- will to men. 

soul, illumined by the mystic Light, in rapturous 
tones thy burden shall be uttered ; in song, in speech, in 
loving action, guided by the Spirit's Voice within. Go 
forth upon thy mission, gentle soul, bearing the lighted 
lamp of Truth. At heaven's high altars hath thy lamp 
been lighted, and with its mystic flame it sheds abroad 
the Light of lights, which showeth to sin-burdened souls 
the Path of Life. 

Peace descendeth and joy cometh, on wings of light. 
high world of Light, thy radiance doth infill this 
world. With lifted eyes and glad, receptive heart I 
come to Thee, Spirit that dost brood upon the world. 
Out of thee the Word of Truth proceedeth; out of Thee 
is Life, whose healing stream can wash away all sin and 
pain. Li thee I live and move and have my being, 
Spirit of Eternal Rest. The Worlds acknowledge thee, 
in every atom of their being ; with tongues unnumbered 
do they chant Thy praises. Holy Spirit of the Vast Un- 
known. Eternity is Thine, Spirit Holy ; Thou wearest 
it as raiment. Ever changing is Thy form, in beauteous 
variation. 

HOLY GROUND. 

How beautiful is that place where Truth has dawned 
upon us ! The flood of Light Celestial bathes the scene 
with beauty not its own ; and it becomes a Holy Place, a 
Place of Worship, where altars might be builded to the 
Known yet Unknown God. Here came down Fire out of 
heaven, and kindled bush and tree ; and in the New Light 



16 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

I saw a New World, and knew that God created it through 
me. My eyes beheld its beauty and its wondrous har- 
mony. The infinite and perfect Laws revealed them- 
selves to me through every form I saw. The trees and 
bushes, herbs and grasses were revelations of Creative 
Mind, working its present miracles of growth before me. 
I sensed a Presence as of Light invisible, and I knew 
that God was there and everywhere, awaiting recognition. 

A SOKG OF THE SOUL. 

Over the sounding sea, to me, 

Cometh the song of Eternity, 

A strain of the soul's high melody. 

Out of the light-filled sky my eye 

Catcheth a glimpse of Deity. 

In splendor not to be told by me 

A city riseth, over the sea ; 

Its walls of jasper and pearl I see. 

Shining out of Infinity : 

And there the souls of the blessed dwell, 

Safe in Truth's high citadel. 

Over the sounding sea, to me, 

Come the voices of the Free, 

Whom Truth hath freed eternally ; 

Sweet is the music floating o'er 

The harmony of the wave- washed shore ; 

It cometh in glad notes to me. 

Over the sounding sea. 

Sweet are the voices of the blest 

That sing from the Home of Eternal Eest. 

Listen, my soul, to the strains that roll 

Over the sounding sea to me. 

Over the Sea of Immensity, 

Bounded alone by Eternity, 

Floated in glad harmony 

This song of the soul to me. 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 17 



THE AIM OF LIFE. 

AVhat shall I do to be saved ? cries the Christian. So 
ask I, but not in fear of a fiery fate. It is from the fire 
of this Avorld that I would be saved ; the fire of consum- 
ing care, the flames of all-devouring anxiety. I find that 
the more I have the more I want ; as if the law of physics 
were reversed in the metaphysical world, and a vacuum 
existed which could never be filled, with all possessions. 
This Maw, this greedy, all-swallowing Stomach of ours ; 
that engulfs gold, lands, houses, ofiices, honors, and yet 
gapes for more! Will this vacuum of desire never be 
filled and satisfied? » 

With desire like the appetite of space for worlds we 
go through life, struggling, crowding, fighting, — and 
achieve, what ? Happiness ? Ah ! Who catches that 
elusive sprite ? We are all chasing, but most of us 
have only panting and perspiration for our reward. I 
would hold out to my fellow-men an end more worthy of 
life. Stop ! Reflect a moment, my brother. What is 
your chief aim in life ? Have you not thought of that ? 
Is it not time you should do so ? Surely that mark you 
are aiming at now is not your true target. Was it to hit 
that mark that you have so excellent a bow, tempered 
in Vulcan's forge ? Define me what is your aim in life. 
Is it to acquire wealth ? But wealth is nothing in itself. 
The use of wealth is determined by the character of the 
user. One man works his own destruction with wealth. 
jS"o curse from his worst enemy could so .blight his life 
as this W^ealth, which perhaps a loving parent gave him. 
Wealth, then, is not a good in itself; but the character 
that will make a good use of either wealth or poverty, — 
that is the real good, is it not ? 

Is it to gain happiness that you are so struggling? 
What is happiness ? Is it not a state of the Mind ? 
And do you think that this state of the mind is a result 



18 lifp: and light fkom above. 

of Possessions ? Let the wretched who are rich in this 
worhl's goods answer. Let the good answer, whose souls 
are full of peace, while their purse is innocent of treasure. 
If happiness is a state of the mind, it is within our own 
control, and not dependent on the whims of fortune. 
Man's nature hath a sphere of action above the things of 
the senses. To be rich in Truth, Wisdom, Purity, Per- 
ception of the Beautiful; in Love, Benevolence, Good- 
Avill ; to be full of a peace which no discord of the earth's 
air can disturb ; to live in the light of Divine Truth, the 
consciousness of one's Divine Nature : this is true Wealth ; 
all else is Illusion. To strive for this AVealth is a worthy 
aim. He, who strives for This can never fail. No man 
can keep his reward from him. It depends upon himself 
alone, is fully within his power, and all the devils of hell 
and the world cannot rob him of his possession. 

" But I Avish opportunity for culture," says the ambi- 
tious youth ; " pictures, books, music, travel, enrich the 
soul; and for these I must have money." It is not hard 
to answer this statement. The opx^ortunities and condi- 
tions for the highest culture to-day are within the reach 
of the poorest. A few weeks of honest labor will secure 
these for any earnest youth. It is not these that make 
necessary the universal drudgery of mankind. It is love 
of display, fondness for false pleasures, that prompt 
men to struggle so hercely. 

I would say no word against legitimate business. 
Action is the normal condition for man. The human 
soul is an expression of Infinite Energy. Sloth is death. 
The repose of the philosopher is not inaction. It is 
intensest action, but in the mental and spiritual, rather 
than the physical. To organize and control Industry, to 
produce things needful for human life, must be com- 
mended by the philosopher, though he himself engages 
not in such activities. The test of any action is its effect 
upon human welfare. Eliminate from the world those 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 19 

industries which foster the lower side of human nature, 
which feed false appetites, pander to spurious ambitions, 
serve mere sensuality, and such business as would be left 
the gods themselves might well engage in. To produce 
food, clothing, houses, furniture, and such things as serve 
the love of the truly beautiful, would never enslave any 
man. It is the service of the False that degrades men. 
To follow one's love, to engage in that which conscience 
and heart alike commend, develops the highest in man. 
To serve things below one's best nature must always 
degrade and destroy. 

THE SECEET OF HAPPINESS. 

Epicurus, who taught that happiness is the highest 
good, saw deeply into the structure of the world and the 
nature of the soul. Who is not seeking happiness? And 
yet, who believes that happiness is wholly within his 
reach? The disappointed expectations of men have 
turned them to a world beyond the horizon of time, Avhere 
happiness, which they have vainly pursued on earth, shall 
at last be theirs. We dream of golden cities in the skies, 
where joy never sleeps ; where the soul shall sing eternally 
her songs of gladness. But meantime here on earth we 
groan and sweat under a weary life, ignorant that happi- 
ness is within our reach. To teach the way to happiness 
is the aim of all religions, all philosophies. Among the 
ancients the secret of a happy life was taught as the exact 
sciences are taught among us. With them happiness was 
no gift of fortune or the gods, but a state of mind to be 
attained by personal effort, in accordance with certain 
principles of action. 

The premise from which all true teaching must proceed 
is that from which the Stoics argued : namely, that God 
made man for happiness ; that the nature of the soul is 
fitted for it; that only through ignorance can misery 
enslave us and chain us to the rock of torture. Tender 



20 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

Buddha, after soul-strugglings terrible, and mighty yearn- 
ings for the Light, discovered that Knowledge is the way 
to happiness, because Ignorance is the mother of pain ; 
and with profound insight of the laws of the soul he 
formulated a philosophy of life which has guided millions 
of the human race into peace and joy. The radiance of 
ills illumined teaching has not been dimmed by centuries 
of time; and to-day his words of life feed millions of 
human souls. 

Our philosophy of life must found itself deeply and 
solidly upon the truth of the divine nature of the soul. 
The materialistic tendency of modern science is destruc- 
tive to all true ethical teaching, because it places all 
power in externals, and makes the soul not a cause but 
an effect ; a result of certain conditions and combinations 
of matter. If the soul is an effect, happiness is a gift 
of chance, and the fortunate only may enjoy it; but if 
the soul is a Cause, a Positive Force, happiness is a con- 
dition to be achieved through the exercise of enlightened 
will. It is then, as the ancient sages taught, the fruit 
of knoAvledge. 

If happiness is the natural state of the soul, nothing 
external has power to destroy it. Only the soul can 
conquer the soul. If the soul will, she may maintain 
her natural state of happiness in the midst of whatever 
external conditions. The poor slave Epictetus in the 
midst of external poverty maintained a mental state of 
serenity and peace, through the practice of those precepts 
which have made him famous. When he is asked "How 
is it possible that a man who has nothing, who is naked, 
houseless, without a hearth, squalid, without a slave, 
without a city, can pass a life that flows easily ? " he 
replies : " See, God has sent you a man to show you that 
it is possible. Look at me, who am without a city, with- 
out a house, without possessions, without a slave; I sleep 
on the ground ; I have no wife, no children, no praetorium, 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 21 

but only the earth and heavens and one poor cloak. And 
what do I want ? Am I not without sorrow ? Am I not 
without fear ? Am I not free ? Did I ever blame God 
or man?" For every calamity he has a precept ready, 
showing the free and independent nature of the soul, 
which laughs at chains, wounds, terrors. " I must die," 
he says ; " but must I die lamenting ? I must be put 
in chains ; must I then also lament ? I must go into 
exile ; does any man then hinder me from going with 
smiles and cheerfulness and contentment? But I will 
put you in chains. Man, what are you talking about? 
Me in chains ? You may fetter my leg, but my will not 
even Zens himself can overpower. I will throw you into 
prison. My poor body, you mean. I will cut your head 
off. But when have I told you that my head alone can- 
not be cut off ? " 

Epictetus makes happiness and unhappiness to reside 
wholly in opinion or belief ; that is, in the attitude which 
the free mind takes toward the experiences of life. " It 
is not death," says he, "which is terrible; for if it were 
terrible, it would have been so to Socrates; but our 
opinion of death, as being terrible, that is the terrible 
thing." If a man insults me, says he, it is my opinion 
of the thing, as being insulting, that affects me ; and not 
the thing itself. Insult a stone, the stone is not affected; 
and I am affected only by myself, by my own mind. 

The soul is insulated from every power but her own. 
Whatever touches me must touch me through myself. 
Not your word, your act, can injure me, but only my 
own. Only by surrender of my divine right of mastery 
may I be enslaved to any evil thing. Only as I connive 
and plot against myself can any plot succeed against me. 
Only myself can betray myself; only my own weapon 
can Avound me ; only my own hand smite ]ne. Who are 
you, that would presume to punish me ? Know you not 
that I may be injured only from within ? The soul is 



22 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

armed in steel impenetrable, forged in Vulcan's fires. 
Not even in the lieel am I vulnerable, save to my own 
stroke. Dip your arrow in the poison of my own false 
opinion, and it may wound me even unto death; but 
there is no other poison in the world for me. As I will, 
so am I. No prison in the world can hold me save the 
prison of my own opinions. In the jail of false beliefs 
am I immured, and vainly do I beat against the walls, 
until the Thor-hammer of Truth shall smite upon them. 
At that blow they dissolve into invisible mist, and I 
stand free in the great world. And not by any hand 
may this Thor-hammer be wielded save my own. I must 
seize it, with valiant grasp, not fearing its weight, and 
strike believing, yea, knowing that its blow is fatal to 
the walls of error. 

the mighty power of the soul armed with Truth I 
As Samson with an ass' jawbone slew his thousand men, 
so may the soul with the least of weapons wielded in the 
knowledge of her divine power overcome the hosts of 
evil. Down topple the walls of every Babylon, when 
the soul's trumpet-note of Power is sounded. Three 
times round she marches, blows her blast, and the cita- 
dels of error crumble. 

We forget, in times of weakness, that the soul is one 
with the Forming Spirit of the universe. Out of Power 
Infinite she came, to act upon the world ; not to be acted 
on alone, but to create new symbols of her immortal 
nature. Out of the deeps of Power, out of realms of 
Life, she cometh forth, and wields her scepter in her own 
domain. 

Son of the Mighty God, why art thou fallen ? Eecum- 
bent on the earth art thou, the dust upon thy noble head. 
Rise out of this thy low estate, and claim thine own ! 
Son of the Highest ; offspring of the Mighty God ; who 
but thyself hath robbed and wounded thee ? Who but 
thyself hath ta'en thy crown from off thy brow of Light, 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 23 

and cast it in the dust ? Who but thyself hath humbled 
thee, that thou dost he upon thy face and grovel in the 
dirt? Over thee obscene birds of prey are hovering, 
flapping round thy head their gloomy wings. Uncanny 
bats and owls are waiting in the darkening wood to light 
upon thee when thy struggles shall have ceased ; and 
carrion beasts, whose forms would fade into the darkness 
at but one word of Truth from thee, are sniffing boldly 
at thy prostrate form. Else, Son of Light! Cast off 
this spell that holds thee, and assume thy native state. 
Throw off the chains thy false beliefs have forged, and 
stand a Free Soul in the universe. All that is true and 
good, all that is glad and beautiful, is thine. Arise and 
claim it for thine own. Whate'er thou seest is thine own, 
to have and hold forever. The universe of good lies all 
within thy soul. Why seek it outwardly, where naught 
but disappointment can await thee? Thou art thy 
world; and these poor stars that shimmer in the sky 
are but reflections of the starry order in thyself. Out 
of thine Infinite Deeps shall come the good thou seekst. 
Its shadow floateth yonder on the earth, and taketh the 
form thou givest it. It changeth, passeth, and is gone : 
but in thy soul its essence doth remain, as from eternity 
it hath. 

Know then thy riches, Immortal Soul, and live in 
thine own domain. Be held no longer by these bonds of 
darkness. Stand bold and free amid the splendors of 
thy world, and ask no gifts from either gods or men. 
The gift thou seekst from another is already thine. 
The virtue thou dost pray for is thine own. The health 
thou seekst is but the shadow of that Health that glows 
within thee. Thou canst not pray for what thou knowest 
not ; and knowing is possession. AVaste not thy breath 
in idle asking, nor thy strength in vainly seeking ; but 
know that all is thine. Possess, enjoy thine own; and 
hold it not forever from thee by thy prayers. That 



24 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

which thou seekst thou canst never find; that whicli 
thou askest thou canst never have, so long as thou dost 
seek and ask. No good can bless thee nor can evil harm 
save through thine own free act. The Soul, in plenitude 
of power, rules all the fates. On shelves and niches, in 
thy pantheons and temples, thy faculties do sit, as gods 
and images, endowed by thee with power to rule thy life. 
Above thee in the heavens roll the stars, which thou hast 
made to dictate or reveal thy fate ; but every star and 
planet is a symbol of the powers in thyself, which rule 
thee only by thy acquiescence. Thy gods are powerless, 
severed from thy will ; thy stars are rush-lights, flicker- 
ing idly in the skies, unless thy soul endows them with 
its power. The earth and heavens, and all that in them 
is, are but the symbols of Thyself, O mighty Soul ; and 
thou art ruler in thy universe, when' thou dost know 
Thyself. 

CONTESTS OF THE MIND. 

In all contests some must be defeated, save in the 
contests of the mind. There we may be always victori- 
ous if we will. Eew of us have any desire to conquer 
in that realm where alone we may be sure of victory. 
We enter upon other contests with great zeal, and lofty 
ambition to succeed; in spite of our knowledge that vic- 
tory is uncertain. Why should we not enter upon the 
contests of the mind with greater joy, when we know 
that victory is certain? We leave the contemplation of 
infinite riches within the soul to chase some phantom 
of joy without; and when we have been cheated and 
fooled and punished we mourn and chide the fates which 
have so afflicted us. We must learn to seek things 
without desire, to hold them without attachment. To 
have and not to have ; to hold without being held by our 
possessions : this is the secret of a hap|)y life. Let us 
cut all cords that bind us to the world. Let us live 



THE SOULS WAY OF LIFE. 25 

free men, not chained to any ball of desire. Let us 
repel the things Ave attract, so that they may be held in 
delicate balance, and not be drawn upon us to overwhelm 
us. ]\[ost men are striving to attach themselves to the 
things of the world. The philosopher wishes to detach 
himself from them. They are gathering, he is scatter- 
ing; they are pursuing, he is retreating from the riches 
of this world. What most men desire as good he avoids 
as harmful. He sees the serpent underneath the flower 
which they are reaching forth to pluck. They wreak 
their faculties upon trade, politics, law, theology; and 
the world pays them in its own coin for all their service. 
But the treasure which they lay up the moths and rust 
destroy and thieves break through and steal. The phi- 
losopher aims to serve the soul, and has his pay in riches 
infinite, eternal. 

THE SOUL^S NATIVE AIE. 

MY soul, mighty is the power that draws thee toward 
the world of Things, but mightier is that which attracts 
thee heavenward. As the trees lift up their noble trunks^ 
defying the force that draws mere stones earthward, 
so my divine soul lifts herself up, and grows toward her 
native heaven, in spite of the forces of sense which hold 
the body to the earth. I know my native air. As the 
eagle soars toAvard the stars, so doth my soul soar 
heavenward. I leave all else, seeking my native free- 
dom. The things of this world charm me, in my moments 
of blindness, and hold me to the earth, Avhen I should 
be in the high air; but the True Vision comes, the Divine 
Light shines, and lo ! these things are shown as shadows, 
Avhich have no reality, no power to hold the soul. I 
know the sphere in Avhich Content is found. I know 
Peace and her habitation. With these would I dwell 
forevermore. 

O sons and daughters of God, come with me; learn of 



26 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

your native realm; abandon these poor toys, which but 
beguile your childish hours, and look on Truth. Refuse 
these charms, these beguilements, which sting the heart 
at last with death. Dwell in the Divine Sphere, where 
Peace habits, where true Love is, where Wisdom makes 
her abode. Communing with these, thou shalt forget, 
O soul, the charms of the world, and know them no more 
forever. 

SAVING POWER OF TRUTH. 

I CANNOT overcome the enemies of the soul in open 
and direct conflict. My gaze hath power to give them 
life and strength. Prom me they draw their power to 
wound and slay. But let me turn my back on them, 
and see only the forms of Beauty, Purity, Love, and lo ! 
a wonder! these things I thought actual are no more. 
Like vanishing shadows in the sun's bright presence 
they have faded from my sight, and not a trace remains 
of the evil powers I fought so fiercely. Believe me, 
good friend, the demons you fight are all born of your 
own eyes. When you look to the left, there they appear; 
when you turn to the right hand, there your all-potent 
gaze creates them. Believe me, brother, they are 
Phantasma, Illusion, as are the demons of the drunkard. 
One glimpse of Truth will cleanse thine eyes so that 
thou shalt see these evil forms no more forever. Look 
on Truth and be saved. In thy finite strength thou canst 
do nothing. Truth alone can save thee. The Divine 
Ideal, born of the All-Perfect Mind, is thy true saviour. 
Look on That, and thou art saved. Invoke That, and 
It is with thee; a Presence of Light, a Divine Afflatus, 
a Spirit of Mighty Power, which can expel and utterly 
destroy all haunting demons. That is thy True Self, 
which thou hast forgotten. As one seeing his face for 
the first time in a mirror learns the appearance of his 
featureSj so one looking in the mirror of Truth perceives 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 27 

his real nature, that it is Divine, All-Perfect, one with 
the All-Perfect Life of God. 

FAITH AND KNOWLEDGE. 

The Intellect is curious, with a profane eagerness, to 
comprehend these mystic laws of the soul, in all their 
operation. But they do not wait on understanding, 
but on faith. As the vital processes of the body proceed 
without the understanding, so do the processes of Saving 
Life in the soul perform their divine work apart from 
the mind's knowledge of their ways. The Intellect 
must bow in humility before the mysteries of life. So 
much as shall be given us to know, that let us with 
humble gratitude receive ; but let not the intellect thwart 
the wise and good laws of the soul by any profane skep- 
ticism. The heart knows the reality of love, but the 
intellect may not comprehend its mystic workings. 
Paith and feeling have their rightful sphere in the human 
soul, and intellect must not refuse them full expression. 
Through Faith, or the consciousness of Spiritual Life, 
the soul achieves her grandest triumphs. Through 
Faith man is related to the Source of Life, the Infinite 
Spirit from which his personal life proceeds. Through 
him then flow currents of Divine Power, and signs 
attend him. 

PEKSONALITY. 

Without this vital relation to the Supreme Soul the 
individual is nothing. So greatly do men deceive them- 
selves, believing personality to be the Real Self, that a 
prophetic voice is needed to recall them to the truth. 
We recognize personality in every way, and in every way 
conceal the Real Self which is a manifestation of the 
Supreme. We name the personality, give it a place in 
the world, labor to make it immortal in fame, as if it 
were somewhat of itself. Let us refuse these false man- 



28 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

ners. Acquiescing, for the convenience of society, in 
this recognition of the personal, let us within ourselves 
declare that personality is not; that names, titles, offices, 
conditions of existence, are but shadows, attendant upon 
the Real and Divine Self. My name, my place in the 
world, my occupation, are mere accidents, in the light 
of Eternal Being. I would forget this Person, which so 
boldly hath usurped my place in consciousness. By the 
senses, by inherited manners, by received traditions, it 
has installed itself in the world as a somewhat real. 
Its name is written on the public records, if on no higher 
scroll ; and although he may fail of having it inscribed 
on the roll of mortal fame, the Person will have it 
graven on a marble shaft at death, to give it an added 
lease of mortal life in the eyes of living men. But old 
Time smiles at these illusions of men, these endeavors 
to vivify with true life that which must be mortal. With 
slow but remorseless hand he crumbles the marble shaft, 
and reduces to dust the parchment scroll of Fame. The 
greatest Name at last is air and silence. The fond ambi- 
tions, the daring schemes of world-subduing, the mightiest 
and most successful endeavors to create an earthly immor- 
tality for personality, must fail at last. As the highest 
peaks are last to disappear when we travel from a moun- 
tain range, so the greatest souls are last to be forgotten 
as the race moves onward through the ages. Socrates, 
Plato, Buddha, Jesus, loom vastly in the thin ether of 
tradition, as the race moves on from the age in which 
they lived. But soon the dead level of oblivion will rise 
above these names too, and they shall be utterly forgot. 
Eternity has swallowed them, as it swallowed the myriads 
of lesser names of their time ; and over the vast sea of 
oblivion will still brood the One Life, which alone endures. 
Let us then be not deceived by this personality which 
seems so real, but know only the One Life, the Eternal, 
the Illimitable; surging like a shoreless sea through the 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 29 

ages of Eternity; lifting np its waves in the myriad- 
formed lives that bless the worlds; sinking into the 
dreamless calm of death, when the cycling ages have 
wrought out their mystic purpose; flowing, changing, 
ebbing from planet-shores, but ever reclining, majestic 
and vast, in the deeps of Infinity. 



THE POWEE OF THE SOUL. 

I SEE with open vision that to lift the mind into the 
region of Spirit, and hold it there in a persistent con- 
sciousness of that Presence in which we all live and 
move and have our being, must result in perfect harmony. 
Let us dwell in that Divine Atmosphere where Life is. 
It swims above and around us, vibrant with celestial 
light. Let us lift up our eyes unto it, and see its glory, 
and let the heart thrill with the music that flows out of 
it, and every discordant note in us shall fade into silence ; 
and Music, the Harmony of the celestial spheres, shall 
permeate us and saturate us with joy. I will not wait 
for some celestial influx to lift me into that supernal 
realm. I will lift myself, by the Divine Will which is in 
me. 

This Power waits in each one of us, and will respond to 
any effort. But to wait supinely, to halt praying upon 
the threshold of the Temple of Life, is to miss of our 
rightful heritage. It is for us to claim this Power as 
our own. It is within us, it is around us, it is above and 
below us, like the air we breathe. Why remain bereaved 
of it, when a single impulse of the Will can lift us into 
a position where we breathe it, drink it, eat it, absorb it 
through every pore ? This is the philosophy of life 
which the world waits for, groaning and wailing, beset 
and overcome by phantasms of every sort. My brother, 
my sister, let us make this Divine Power our own, and go 
forth to seek and save that which is lost. 



30 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 



POWER. 

He would be a foolish physician who should hope to 
find a community where none are sick. His aim is to 
have men well, but he does not wish to find them so. 
Until all are well, the true physician must go to those 
that are sick. 

Let success be the fruit of earnest labor. Only so can 
it be success. Napoleon loved the Alps because they 
were a means to victory. Caesar loved the terrors of Gaul 
and Germania, because there he might win laurels of suc- 
cess. Alexander having conquered the world was lost in 
grief, because there was no more scope for his valor. 
The soul craves contest, for the sake of conquest. To 
the brave and heroic man difficulties are always welcome. 
No task is great enough. The soul feels the- plenitude 
of her power, and would have worlds to wreak it on. 

O thou little pigmy man, what vast, far-reaching de- 
signs of conquest haunt thy soul ! Thou wilt reach forth 
thy hand and pluck down the stars of heaven. Thou 
wilt ride to power on the steed of desire, and contend 
with Fate for the mastery of the universe. Thy little 
power proves thee a brute, but thy desires do show thee 
to be a god. 

Not in having, but in hoping, is the strength of man. 
What he can do, is nothing : what he aspires and hopes 
to do, is everything. It is in expectation that the God 
shows himself in man. He will not accept this pigmy 
fate of his ; he will not be content with the poor measure 
of power granted him in time ; but he would drink the 
sea of space, he would absorb the Kosmos, he would have 
Fate his handmaid, to decree his will. This, man, is 
the prophecy of thy destiny. So much as thou canst 
grasp in thy desire, thou shalt have to hold forever. 
Aspiration is Creation becoming conscious. 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 31 



KESUKEEXI. 

I MAKE this resolve to-day, as I have made it many 
times before, that I will this day renounce sin and death, 
and prisons and tombs, and shackles and drag-chains; 
and that bursting forth out of these grave-clothes and 
mummy-wrappings, I will come forth into a new world, 
and live as a man arisen from the dead. But weak and 
infirm will ! How shall I spur thee to the act thou hast 
not heart to do ? Weak flesh, obey the mighty impulse 
of the spirit ! Trembling limbs, be strong to carry me 
forth from this charnel-place. I see dead men's bones 
around me. Skulls, fleshless and horrible, show their 
teeth and stare at me with their empty eye-sockets. A 
horrible damp closes me in. I cannot longer breathe here 
in this deadly atmosphere. Let me forth ! Open, thou 
massive door of death ! I will out of this tomb ! hold 
me who dares ! I hear the voice of Life, saying " Arise, 
come forth. Beauty and Truth await thee ; Purity like 
the lily's petal ; Wisdom which is the insight and appre- 
hension of the Kosmic Laws; these await thy coming 
forth into the Arisen Life." 

Life, I come. Eeceive me, bless me, give me my por- 
tion of inheritance. Henceforth I am thine, and thou 
art mine. I go to do thy work. Go thou with me, 
proving thyself by the signs that follow me. 

To-day I consecrate myself to Truth and Beauty and 
Love. I renounce the world, the flesh, the devil; and 
choose for my portion these three: faith, hope, love; 
and the greatest of these is love. 

OUR DIVINE RELATIONSHIP. 

The prophet is one who perceives his unity with God. 
When that vision comes, the heavens and earth are 
opened, the immeasurable deeps are made luminous, and 
night becomes day. The spirit of prophecy, which is the 



32 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

waking of the divine consciousness in man, fires liis heart, 
and he pours forth a burden of divine wisdom, which 
men rightly accept as the revelation of the Most High. 
God speaks in that voice of his, proceeding out of the 
deeps of the soul. There is no other revelation than 
this. We may look for some physical communication, 
but shall not find it. God works upon nature and man 
not from without, but from within ; at the center, not at 
the circumference. The oak proceeds from the acorn. 
The man of earth is but a manifestation, complete or par- 
tial, of the spiritual man, who is the son of God. 

The highest attitude of the soul is unity and identity 
with God. " I am the divine, all-perfect Life : I know 
not sin, disease, pain, imperfection. These are not of 
Me. I brood over the world, my heart beating with every 
other heart, — beating in every other heart; for my heart 
is the Heart of the Universe." So thinking, man becomes 
God, and divine power is his. Could he but hold that 
divine mood and make it constant, there should be another 
Christ, God made manifest in the flesh : and miracles 
should be as common as suiirise and sunset. 

The redemption of the world waits on the recognition 
of this truth. While we see men as trees walking, we 
shall not reform them by however much philanthropy. 
But when we see them as sons of God, knowing not what 
they yet shall be, we set going the divine currents in 
their life, and work with God to redeem them to Him- 
self. Beneath every mask, however hideous, lies the 
face of a son of God. We must pray that our eyes may 
be opened so that we may see through these masks of 
flesh, and pierce to the divine soul within. My brother, 
you are not the man you seem. If you do not know 
yourself, I know you, and God knows you. Let me 
reveal you to yourself. Let me hold before your eyes a 
mirror of Truth, that you may see yourself therein, and 
know that you are indeed a child of God. Forget this 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 33 

character that you have been masquerading in. It is not 
yourself, it is but a part you have been playing. Dwell 
in the thought of your divine relationship, your divine 
character. As this image is shadowed forth in your 
mind, it will become manifest in the flesh. Thou art 
divine, and shalt know thyself and show thyself for what 
thou art. 

THE SOUL'S FREEDOM. 

I AM determined to realize my ideals, and live after 
my best perceptions. When I think of living otherwise, 
life seems flat, stale and unprofitable ; and I fain would 
leave it for an existence more starry. I cannot content 
myself with mere existence, eating, drinking and sleep- 
ing, even with health as my portion ; but I would carve 
in this wondrous marble of the flesh my best concep- 
tions of beauty, truth and good. 

I see ideals of a beauty for man that would make him 
the fit comrade of flowers, stars, moonbeams ; and I sense 
a joy thrilling through the universe, sounding forth in 
the rich song of the mocking-bird, the hum of busy bees, 
the laughter and prattle of children, that would fill the 
soul of man with the very music of the spheres, if he 
would but open himself to its divine strains. Why 
should we mope and weep, and chide the fates that have 
made our life what it is ? Are not even the fates subject 
to the spirit within us ? Let us arise in the might of the 
soul, and assert our sovereignty over all things temporal. 
The soul is not conditioned. She is free, with a divine 
freedom. The ailments of the flesh, the arrows of for- 
tune, she does not heed. She wears an armor that no 
weapon on earth can pierce. 

THE SOUL OMNIPOTENT. 
What is my part in the redemption of this body from 
its weight of sin and disease ? Is this achieved only 



34 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

through, the grace of God, as pious people say ? or have 
I some active part in this consummation so devoutly to 
be wished ? 

I seem to hear a Voice replying to my earnest, prayer- 
ful question : " Thou art thine own redeemer. Within 
thee sleeps the power to achieve thy highest wish. 
Awake, thou that sleepest; put on thy divinely given 
power ! Seize the scepter which is proffered thee, and 
as a monarch on his throne command thou the elements 
of thy life, and they shall obey thee. Speak, and thy 
will shall be accomplished. The dream of perfect life 
which haunts thee is not given to mock thee with ever- 
deferred reality. It is the working of the Creative Spirit 
within thee that fills thy soul with the splendid vision of 
a perfect life. That is the union of God and Man ; the 
point of contact between the individual and his Source. 
The All-Perfect hath His habitation in thy heart of 
hearts. 'Tis the splendor of His perfect being which 
thou beholdest within thy soul. Let that shining Glory 
fill the temple of thy thought until all things in the 
world about thee reflect its refulgent beams. The light 
of the sun and moon and stars, the glory of morning and 
evening, are borrowed from that Light which shines 
within thee. Open thine eyes and gaze upon this Divine 
Glory until all imperfection, all shadow of sin and dis- 
ease fade away, and thy being is like the noonday 
heavens, when not a cloud is seen. So shalt thou be 
perfect, even as thy Father in heaven is perfect." 

THE POWEPv OF FAITH. 
Faith is the elevation of the soul into the realm of 
Divine Truth. There it perceives Peality, and communes 
with God. When my head is bathed in that Divine Light 
I believe all things are possible to the Soul. Mountains 
shall be moved at her command. The sick shall be made 
whole, the dead shall be made alive. The Kingdom of 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 35 

Heaven is taken by force when the soul besieges it in 
this high mood. I will not plead nor petition; I will 
claim my own, and yield it not. When I can see my 
own, I possess it ; but not before. To pray believing is 
to pray perceiving ; and perception is possession. This 
is the law of Prayer. 

THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE SELF. 

The ultimate of all education should be the knowledge 
of the soul's real nature. I must know myself for an ex- 
pression of the Divine Life before I can unfold my highest 
possibilities. What is the true knowledge ? The knowl- 
edge of the Self. Who shall make me acquainted with 
my Self ? Let me sit at his feet and learn of him ; for 
through that knowledge I shall attain the Perfect Life. 
Let no man prate to me of atoms or elements, to show me 
that I am a child of the Dust. If I were of the Dust I 
should believe this lie ; but the soul in me refuses it. I 
am of the Divine, All-Perfect Life, and I listen enchanted 
to the Truth concerning my real nature. My soul stirs 
with joy at the sound of this high music. It is the music 
of the spheres, interpreted in speech. It enchants and 
ravishes me. I am lifted up at the sound of it, and 
spread my wings in my native air. My soul refuses to 
know sin or disease. These are not of her, who wears 
the Mantle of Light and the Crown of Divinity. The 
illusions of Time shall not deceive her, who has seen the 
face of Truth. In the consciousness of my real nature, 
I go forth strong for any conflict. I cannot be van- 
quished, I cannot be hurt, by any weapon in the armory 
of Time. My shield and armor are words of Truth. 
My weapons are right affirmations of the nature of the 
Self. 

Truth is the bride of the soul. To her I make my 
vows of eternal allegiance. To her I sacrifice all things. 



36 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

She is my bride from eternity. I loved lier in the worhl's 
morning, and I love her now. 

AVhen I know that my Self is Divine and All-Perfect, 
I am born again, and begin to grow into my divine man- 
hood. So complete is the transformation which this con- 
sciousness may work in us that we may indeed renounce 
the old self, the mortal self, with all its relations, and go 
forth as a new creature, into new works, by new ways. 
Except ye are born again ye can in no wise enter into the 
kingdom of God. Flesh and blood, as such, cannot in- 
herit the kingdom. Only spirit can inherit or achieve it. 
It is beyond the reach of mortal power. Only the soul 
knows the Way to the Perfect Life. She knows it be- 
cause she is of it. When we look earthward, with the 
e3^es of physical science, we cannot see the truth which 
is mighty to save. It is above, not below, and perceived 
only by the soul, in uplifted prayer. There is but one 
Book in which we may read the truth ; that is the Book 
of the Soul. That Book is within, and only the Soul can 
read it. Therein are the words of life, which are able to 
make wise unto salvation. 

THE IDEAL LIFE. 

I CATCH glimpses of a life too beautiful and sweet to 
be lived upon this degraded earth. The ways of men 
will not suffer it. Here and there some seer has caught 
a view of it, and fled to the wilderness that he might 
begin to live it. It makes hideous and ugly the life of 
society, and mean and deformed all the ways of men. It 
is too high ; I cannot attain unto it ; and yet, sweetly 
does it enchant me with its beauty, and I fain would 
leave all else to follow it. I perceive that it is one with 
the life of nature ; that if a man should live it, he would 
be one with the beauty of the dawn and sunset, the glory 
of autumnal foliage, the purity and sweetness of flower- 
strewn meadows. His voice should suggest the notes of 



THE SOUL S WAY OF LIFE. 31 

birds, and all sweet sounds which he has gathered unto 
his being in his long pilgrimage in nature. The light of 
the stars should gleam in his eyes, the color of the rose 
glow in his cheek. Like a fair lily, like a stately tree, 
maid and youth should picture forth divine purity and 
strength. 

Alas, that this fair life should be alien to man, or he 
to it! that he should have wandered so far from the 
Father's house, and so rioted and reveled in the senses, 
and so companioned with swine, that he can no longer 
perceive the beauty of this life ! We become drunk with 
the wine of custom, and cannot with our befuddled senses 
see the beauty of a true life. We go with the multitude, 
and are swept along in the tide of custom, and whirled 
about until our dizzy soul knows not its true center and 
standpoint in the world. Once let a percex^tion of this 
true life permeate us, and all our ways shall conform to 
it. Clothing, food, shelter, manners, all should adjust 
themselves to this new ideal. 

I am done forever Avith the conventional life of the 
world. If I stay here on this planet longer, it will be 
not as the individual my friends of former days have 
known, but as the one some few of my most intimate 
friends have sometimes seen, through the masks which 
I have worn among them. I am pledged to live the 
divine life, the ideal life ; whether here in this unfavor- 
able world or in one more stellar and genial I cannot 
now say. The soul has long whispered into my carnal 
ear her high monitions, and poured into my throbbing 
heart her revelations of celestial life ; and at last, after 
many years of dallying and delay, I have decided to obey 
her voice, come what may. I hope thus to justify the 
love and good opinions of my true friends, and reveal 
something of that higher nature which they have been 
so good as to endow me with. 



88 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 



THE BETTER WAY. 

This poor, mean life that engages us ; how far below 
our possibilities ! Full of pain, grief, regrets, disap- 
pointments ! We love, and lose; we achieve, and are 
bereaved ; we hope, and are disappointed ; we plan, and 
are thwarted ; we sow, and reap not ; and amid it all we 
ask, " Why am I alive ? Why was I born ? Why called 
into being, to suffer and writhe ? " 

But there is a better way, a better way. The good 
Master of Life hath not ordained this suffering. It is 
incidental to the true order of things. The will of an 
enlightened soul can dispel it all. Because I fall, shall 
I never hope to stand erect ? Does that slip prove that 
legs were not given to stand upon, or that they cannot 
be trusted in their office ? I will study truth and self- 
control. I believe that a fairer and more joyous life 
waits for man when he has learned the laws of living. 
Man has forgotten his true nature. He has drunk some 
stupefying potion, which has caused him to forget his 
divine origin. 

Arouse, ye sleepers ! Sleep no more, with troubled 
dreams ! Life is action ! It is the expression of Truth. 

THE SOUL'S BLOSSOMING. 
I WISH to face life earnestly, not pretending to more 
virtue or wisdom than I possess. I know full well how 
poorly and meanly I live. When I lift up mine eyes to 
behold the possibilities of man I am ashamed of my best 
achievements. I wallow when I should soar. I crawl 
and creep when I should stand erect. I peep and wink 
and avoid God's eye, for I am not pure enough to look 
Him in the face. I dare not stand forth in the world 
and utter my highest praise of truth and virtue, because 
men would at once ask, "Why then art thou not their 
disciple ? " I shame myself by every beautiful utter- 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 39 

aiice. AVheii I speak of Beauty, I blush. When I praise 
Virtue and Purity, it is with reservation. I say : " There 
is a life possible to man whose beauty is one with stars 
and flowers; but it is too high; I cannot come nigh unto 
it. I have seen it, how lovely it is ; I have dreamed of 
it in my night-slumbers ; and in the midst of worldliness 
and sensuality the vision of it has alternately cheered 
me and cast me down. But expect me not to live this 
life. Have mercy on me and pardon my shortcomings. 
I am better for seeing and saying these things, and you 
for hearing them ; but as I do not look for its full mani- 
festation in you, so neither do you look for it in me. Let 
us pray, brothers, let us pray." 

And so, with preaching and listening to preaching we 
make shift to live, and avoid the possibilities of life. 
But not always shall the Spirit of God strive with man. 
Slowly we are lifted above savagery, above barbarism, 
into Beauty, Truth, Good. As the lily's stem, rising above 
the ooze, drawn by the light overhead, at last unfolds its 
pure and beautiful flower ; so does this plant Man, with 
roots fixed in the soil of savagery, rise slowly age after 
age, and, drawn by the light of Truth, it sometime 
unfolds its beauteous blossom; and we say, "a god! a 
god! surely, this is no man!" But it is a man, —the 
blossom, long-prepared- for, of the race-plant. 

And so, even in our budding season, when darkness is 
.around us, and the divine life in us is struggling with 
oppressive conditions, we may feel stirring in us the 
forces which are shaping the future flower. 

Look up, then, my brother, and open thy bosom to the 
warm sunshine that shall invite thee into thy perfect un- 
foldment. Thinkst thou that the flower can draw purity 
and sweetness from that ooze, and that there is no divine 
chemistry in thee to convert these unclean elements in 
the soil of thy experience into a divine and beautiful 
character? Art thou not also a plant in God's earth, 



40 ^ LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

growing to perfection through his all-embracing Laws ? 
Ah ! No outer garb of thine can rival the splendor of 
the lily's petal ; but when the blossom 6f thy soul has 
unfolded in all its beauty, no lily was ever arrayed in 
such a glory. 

It is by a solitary communion with the Spirit of Life 
that we come into these visions of Beauty and Good. In 
society, such as it commonly is in our cities and towns, 
we do but mix and mingle in degradation. The impurity 
of each re-enforces that of every other, and there is no 
vision of the ideal. But in solitary communion, when 
the eyes are closed to the unclean things of our society, 
and the soul looks with open vision upon Eeality, then 
come into the heart the vesper songs of Truth and Beauty, 
and the man's whole being is filled with a divine mel- 
ody. In nature I find refreshment and continual renewal. 
Standing under the sweet scented pines I am opened to 
an influx of Beauty from that Spirit whose creations 
these dark forest brothers are. 

Now, my brother, you are saying to yourself : " This 
man sings loftily ; I like his chanting ; but how shall I 
listen to this fine music ? I must be about my proper 
business. I have fields to plow and plant ; or sugar to 
weigh and calico to measure ; or gold to count and reckon 
interest upon ; or quarrels of my neighbors to settle be- 
fore the court ; or I must dig in the bowels of the earth 
to find the fuel which warms his hearth; or delve after 
the oil by whose light he writes these fine things ; or I 
must shut myself in a dark and smutty shop, where steel 
hammers and whirling wheels are molding out the very 
pens he writes his visions with ; and how shall I listen to 
this fine music when my ears are so filled with the din of 
machinery ? How shall I keep my eye on this vision 
which he pictures to me when it must be upon the task I 
am performing ? All men cannot take to the woods, to 
stand dreaming under pine trees, to gaze through the 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 41 

branches at these stars of the ideaL Work must be done, 
and that hard work. Burdens are heavy and grievous to 
be borne. I have bad men to work with. I am bruised 
and insulted daily. My manhood is trampled on by my 
taskmaster ; and the clank of my chains drowns all this 
melodious music. '^ 

Yes, my poor brother, I know what you would say, I 
know how hard it is to connect this fine thinking with the 
affairs of the world. Have I myself not confessed that 
I cannot see these beautiful visions in the midst of the 
world's tumult ? That I must go away from all secular 
noises, into the holy silence, before I can hear the loftiest 
music of the soul ? But, my brother, do not fret thy 
soul over this difficulty. Listen when thou canst to this 
high music of thy life, and when the noise and uproar of 
the world subside for a moment, listen ; and this music 
that sings to thee will steal into thy work, and slowly the 
harsh noises of the world will yield to it, and sometime, 
perchance, all shall be converted into divinest harmony. 
Have I not hinted to thee this possibility ? I know that 
this sweet music follows me from the silent woods even 
into the city streets ; and the rattle of carts and the 
voices of striving men and all the uproar of the street, 
do meet and mingle with it, and yield to its masterful har- 
mony. I see the possibility of a labor that shall be as 
glad and musical as the motion of the spheres. Do you 
not know that all the forces of nature act according to 
the laws of harmony ? that the stars sing in the heavens, 
the plants make music in their growth, the sunbeams sing 
in their flight, and that all sounds at last are musical ? 
The hum of the bee and the song of the bird are but an 
organic and conscious manifestation of the melody that 
is in all the forces of nature. And so I conceive that the 
action of man should be musical and glad. His life should 
be a strain of harmony ; and whether he hammers or digs, 
plows or reaps, measures or weighs, counts or pleads, he 



42 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. 

should sing in his work, not only by voice, but by hand 
and brain. 

This is the possibility that awaits us, you and I, my 
brother ; and let not my inability to carry my preaching 
into practice deter you from making the attempt. It is 
not impossible, it is not even so difficult as we believe. 
If each morning we lift up our soul to listen for that 
divine Harmony which sings out of the Creative Life, and 
let that set the pitch for all our daily action, we shall 
find this heavenly music stealing into the day, redeeming 
it, making every hour musical. 

Do not be afraid to talk with me, my brother. I am no 
priest, talking at thee from a position of assumed superi- 
ority. I am thy fellow-man, of like passions with thee, 
and my speech is halting, from my own imperfection. I 
cannot say what I would, for my character Avill not sup- 
port it. I might put on an armor of grandiloquence, of 
dignity, of superior virtue ; but I have not proved it. I 
am content. Let me speak to thee, with thee, not at 
thee ; and together we shall approach nigher to that 
Purity and Beauty Avhich we could not so easily find 
alone. 

IDEAL TAEGETS. 

When the true perception comes, we shall know that 
these things which we are striving for are but as the tar- 
get to the bowman, which gives direction and stimulus to 
his effort. It is not to hit that bull's-eye which we have 
set up that we are born into the world. Nay ! Nay ! A 
larger ambition than that must possess us. Let us some- 
times loose our shaft at the heavens themselves. That 
way is scope for our strength of arm. We shall not fetch 
up against a wall shooting that direction. What matters 
it that we cannot see what becomes of our arrow ? Not 
the shot, but the shooting, is what concerns us. 

Away with these petty targets that we have set up, — 



THE soul's AVAY OF LIFE. 43 

law, politics, the church, philosophy, art, war, commerce 
and the like. Let us. string our bow for a longer range. 
Who knows what mark there is beyond all these ? Is it 
only shooting in the air ? Believe it not, young man, 
zealous and brave. Shade thine eyes with thy hand, and 
look long and steadfastly beyond the mark thy brother 
is aiming at, and something shall appear in the far dis- 
tance, dimly at first, but growing more clear as thou gaz- 
est, and thou shalt have a mark worthy of thy strength 
and ambition. 

We suffer from myopia and astigmatism, every one of 
us. We have looked so long and steadfastly at these 
things that are near us that we seem to have lost the 
power of seeing things at a distance. Those ideals that 
float dimly in the distant horizon of every life, we have 
lost sight of utterly, and most of us do not believe they 
exist. The copper penny before our eye hides the whole 
heaven, with its countless golden stars. Let us dare to 
put away for awhile this cent, that we may see something 
of the infinite riches above and around us. Who shall 
dare to estimate the soul's possibilities in terms of dol- 
lars ? Here is a god. " But how much can he earn ? 
Can he sell wheat ? Can he manage a railroad ? " No. 
" Then he is no god, and we will have none of him." 

Young man, decide now, this day and hour, whether 
thou wilt serve God or mammon. 

THE SOUL'S LEADING. 
What is the secret of spiritual power? Is there no 
means whereby we may realize in our lives those high 
ideals which charm us in our moments of illumination? 
We are caught up, we see a vision of beautiful living, we 
hear notes of a celestial music, we are ravished and drawn 
heavenward by a mystic spell; but the vision fades, the 
notes die away, and we descend again to a prosaic level 
of life, and engage in affairs which are not consistent with 



44 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

the life that was revealed to us. How shall we maintain 
this high altitude of thought and vision? Must we be 
forever fooled and mocked with visions which we cannot 
realize? Better be blind than be shown a momentary 
glimpse of a beauty which cannot be ours. I believe that 
these high j)erceptions may be made practical. I believe 
that the soul knows her way to this divine life, and that 
if we should follow her dictates we might achieve it. But 
we are so loth to trust the soul ; we so depend on custom 
and tradition, on the ways of our fathers and our neigh- 
bors ; that we do not find these visions of ideal life grow- 
ing into conduct. If we could but seize the scepter of 
power over our fears and our doubts, our respect for the 
opinions of our friends and neighbors, we might become 
emperors in a mighty realm. I know that I am daily 
denying the admonitions of the soul. I slight her whis- 
pered warnings, I refuse to follow her leadings, and still 
I chide life and wonder that its highest blossoms and fruit 
do not fall into my hands. 

There is but one way out of this labyrinth of delusions 
which we call the world. It is to follow the soul. The 
soul is all-wise. She knoweth the creative laws, and the 
secrets of life. Let us learn of her, and be wise unto 
salvation. Great is the reward of the first step in obedi- 
ence to the soul. There is no other master worthy to be 
obeyed. Kings of the earth, lords of the heavens, are to 
be neglected for loyalty to the soul. I know not any lord 
but the soul, I acknowledge no other master, no other 
saviour. It is only as any man points to the soul and 
exhorts to a complete obedience of her slightest commands, 
that he becomes a helper and saviour of men. These 
men whom we deify and adore, whom we first crucify and 
afterwards worship, have their ascendency over our minds 
because they sought it not, but pointed to the soul as lord 
and master. This, then, must we do, if we would be 
saved : flee from all customs and traditions, renounce all 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 45 

laws and commandments made of men, abandon reliance 
upon the established authorities, and follow implicitly the 
soul in all her leadings. She is older than Time, more 
ancient than custom. She was before Law, before the 
Church, before tlie world itself, with all its standards of 
thought and action. She will counsel wisely, and with 
an infinite patience and love she will lead us to the divine 
and perfect life. Let us pray for strength to be weak in 
her presence. Let us ask for the wisdom to be foolish 
when she speaks, that we may not set our mortal wisdom 
against her divine insight. Verily, the wisdom of the 
intellect is foolishness with the soul. Babes and children 
who obey the soul may lead the wisest and strongest of 
the earth. 

THE SOUL'S VISIONS. 

Man is gifted with a divine insight which, if he should 
follow it, would lead him into paths of perfect peace and 
happiness. Let me make this day anew a vow which I 
have many times before made and broken: that I will 
henceforth obey this divine voice in every particular; 
that I will hold before my mind constantly the image of 
my divine and real self, as a pattern for my daily life; 
that I will say nothing, do nothing, think nothing, which 
will not harmonize with that divine ideal; that I will 
constantly strive to see more clearly that divine image, 
and to hear more distinctly that divine voice which speaks 
within; that I will be strong with the strength of that 
divine self; that I will know it to be the true saviour and 
redeemer, and call upon it in every time of need; that I 
will no longer seek in outer things that help and strength 
which come only from this divine source; that I will rise 
from every fall seven times renewed in strength because 
of contact with the source of all strength. 

I would live the divine and ideal life; realize my 
dreams, my visions of day and night, my insights of 



46 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

divine truth. I would be a follower of the soul's lead- 
ings, a disciple of the divine oracle, which speaks dis- 
tinctly within the shrine of the soul. What is life without 
the ideal? It is a brute struggle for mere existence. I 
would not live to merely convert so many ounces of food 
and drink per day into bone and muscle. I would live to 
paint in flesh and action the visions of divine beauty that 
haunt me constantly. I would somehow utter and reveal 
my visions. I would paint them, carve them in stone, 
sing them, transpose them into divine harmonies, chant 
them in sacred verse, speak them forth with power of the 
spirit, in many tongues. In every way by which the soul 
expresses her inner life, her dreams and visions, would I 
reveal these dreams of the beautiful and the divine which 
haunt me daily and will not be dismissed unuttered. 

I cannot ignore these divine voices which whisper and 
plead with me. I cannot be deaf to their entreaty. The 
world calls me with siren voices to join in its mad revels, 
its strife for the things which fade and die even in the 
grasp of those who attain them. But I cannot follow 
these voices. They lure to destruction. They are sweet 
for a day, a year, and then they turn to harshest discord. 
They burn in the ears that listen to them. Like a false 
appearance in the sky, these visions of success after 
worldly fashions do fade and dissipate, and the blank 
sky is left. Let me know these illusions for what they 
are. I would not spend my life's best strength following 
after a mirage, only to find in my last hours of fading 
life that the vision is naught but mist. Let me cleave 
fast to Reality 5 follow after Truth and Beauty and Good; 
and strive only for that which Time cannot reach with his 
sharp blade. I am not of this world. It is my school 
and playground, but not my abiding-place. I was before 
this world. I cannot be deceived by its appearances. I 
know them for what they are. I look on space and time 
unmoved, for I am greater than they. My being is from 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 47 

eternity unto eternity. I play my part upon the stage of 
the world, and retire again to mine own abode. I must 
not believe in this part which I am playing, these lines 
which I am appointed to utter. I put on the robe of 
flesh, I enter the stage, I bow to the world, and ask for 
its tolerance of my poor acting; but I do not believe in 
the reality of what I do. I am king or peasant, philoso- 
pher or fool, as my Master of plays shall appoint unto 
me ; but I know that I am acting a part, and that after 
the play is over I shall retire from the stage, and assume 
again my real character. This mask which I have 
assumed, who shall penetrate it, and recognize my real 
features? Who shall hear behind the voice of the actor 
the tones of the real self ? Who shall know my acting 
for what it is, a mere appearance, a caricature, a pretence, 
and behold as face to face my real self behind all this 
make-believe? But let me play well this part which has 
been assigned me, and then depart in peace. I know how 
false is the joy of the actor in the applause of the multi- 
tude. I care not for that noisy applause. The clapping 
of hands, the bestowing of the laurel, the obeisance of the 
multitude, I know how empty and profitless these are, 
and I shall not be betrayed by them. I have one Master, 
and that is the One who assigned me my part. To Him 
I will look for approbation, for a nod or significant look, 
as a token that I am playing well my part. But to 
another I may not look, for the spectator does not know 
what part has been assigned to me, nor what lines I have 
yet to utter. 

THE VOICE OE THE SOUL. 
Sweet beyond saying is the voice of the soul which 
speaks to me in musical tones, charming me to follow it. 
I must be ever alert and attentive that I may lose no 
faintest accent of that divine Voice. Amid the clamor- 
ous voices of the world, we lose that divine Voice, and do 



48 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. 

not hear its whispered admonitions. But in the silence 
of solitude, when the soul retires within its inner sanc- 
tuary and listens, the divine tones are heard again, and 
joy is ours. I long with a great yearning for the com- 
panionship of that Spirit which I can find only in solitude. 
In the midst of society, so-called, I mourn for the absence 
of that One Friend whose presence alone makes the true 
society. Among men it is not often that I find compan- 
ionship. My hours of deepest loneliness are often those 
spent in the midst of what would be called most pleasant 
and agreeable companionship. I am alone in the parlor, 
in the public street, in the church or lecture-room ; but 
never alone in the wild forest, on the mountain-top, or by 
the shore of the great sea. Who is this one Companion 
whose presence makes populous the solitary place, and 
bright the deep retreat in the forest ? Is it not the Uni- 
versal Soul which was our abode before we came forth 
into the world? The connection between mortal man 
and his divine self is very tenuous, and in the thick 
►atmosphere of worldly life it is often lost sight of and 
forgotten. Then comes over the life of man a dark 
eclipse, and the stars of joy are all blotted from his 
heavens. Then fades the bright light of day, and he 
mourns and laments, not knowing what it is that he has 
lost. He seeks in many places and by many methods to 
regain what he has lost, not knowing that when he finds 
his real self he shall find all good and truth. 

THE ILLUMINED LIFE. 

If I might be so favored I would write nothing but 
sentences of light. The world is full of literature, so- 
called, which appeals to the senses, which aims only to 
amuse and entertain, or, at best, to instruct the intellect. 
But mankind is sick, suffering, struggling with forces 
of evil, going down daily into hells of darkness. In the 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 49 

midst of this universal struggling I would raise my voice 
ta declare the Way, the Truth and the Life. 

There is truth that can save, if we could but see it and 
obey its leadings. This universe is not so mad that a 
frenzy of pain is its aim and object. The beautiful, 
serene Order should bring forth joy and peace. Man 
is the highest fruit on the wondrous tree of Life. It is 
not for him to live a warped and stunted life, but a life 
fair and beautiful. 

I would seek truth and live it ; not alone for myself, 
but for my fellow-men. Mystery unfathomable surrounds 
all human life. We are blind ground-worms, not know- 
ing life beyond our daily experience. Vast heavens of 
Light are overhead, but our eyes do not look that way. 
Beneath and around us is Darkness, as of endless Night. 
Faint intimations of our true nature break in upon our 
mist-wrapped minds, but we have no clear, persistent 
sense of our divine possibilities. 

I am convinced that there is a life all joy and peace, 
all air and sunshine. The cares of the world do not 
enter therein. Grief, anxiety, pain, are not in that life. 
It is not in the future only that we may find that life, 
but now, in Time. The harmony and order of Kosmos 
invite us to live that life. Flowers and singing birds, 
forests and streams, blue skies and sunsets, all invite us. 
Its beauty is but poorly hinted in the tints of the morn- 
ing sky; its joy but meanly echoed in the universal 
music of nature. 

The soul that is filled with the joy and peace of that 
life knows not any fear. Serene as the midnight stars, 
it shines forth in the deep gloom of the world, to draw 
upward the eyes and souls of men. Peace that passeth 
understanding abides with the soul which lives that divine 
life. All things are put under foot, every enemy of the 
soul is vanquished, through the Divine Power ; and the 
last great enemy. Death, is robbed of every arrow which 



50 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

could pierce the heart with pain. Light, beautiful light, 
shines ever round that soul, and the mists which once 
clouded it are now made glorious in the heavens by the 
beams of its divine knowledge. 

To find the Way to that divine life, to achieve the 
strength which can live it, is the highest aim of any 
soul. The successes of the world can but poorly repay 
the soul that loses that pearl of greatest price. 

SELF-GOVERNMENT. 

In his famous letter to the newly appointed emperor 
Trajan, Plutarch says : " Let your government commence 
in your own heart, and lay the foundation of it in the 
command of your passions." If this advice is good for 
an emperor it is good for a citizen, — especially for a 
citizen of a republic, wherein self-government has been 
elevated to the dignity of a social system. But self-gov- 
ernment does not mean to the citizen of the republic 
what it meant to the philosophical Plutarch. With us, 
self-government stops with voting for some other to gov- 
ern us. We imagine that we are free, when we have the 
liberty to choose our master. We are tolerant of slavery, 
so that we may wear whose chains we will. Self-govern- 
ment, in its full application, does away with all govern- 
ment that is not of self. But on what heroic virtues 
must such government be based ! There are those who 
would abolish institutional government at once, and thus 
leave all men free to govern themselves. But this would 
be chaos come again. Self-government must be earned 
by self-discipline. It cannot be had for the asking or 
the giving. It is not anarchy we want. We want more 
government, not less ; but that government should pro- 
ceed from within, not from without. We say that all 
just government is derived from the consent of the gov- 
erned. But this is not government, it is co-operation. 
What I do of myself, and what I delegate to another, are 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 51 

equally my own acts. If no acts were clone by the state 
save those which each individual therein might sanction,, 
there should be an ideal society. But government begins 
with the subjugation of the minority by the majority. 
Then there are two classes ; governors and governed, 
masters and slaves, tyrants and oppressed. 

But, we say, no man can have absolute freedom. If 
the decrees of the state are to his likiug, the decrees of 
God are not. He woidd have sunshine, and it rains. 
He would have cool weather, and it is hot ; or warm, and 
it is cold. The sun will not shine at his bidding, nor the 
clouds pass away at his command. Life and death will 
not obey him, though all else might suit his will. So 
man must early learn to accept what he does not like ; 
or, to like what he must accept ; and it is the office of 
philosophy to teach him this. 

If in a state of society where absolute freedom is 
impossible to any member a man would have peace of 
mind, he must learn to submit to the inevitable; for 
in so doing, he does only what he needs must do in abso- 
lute solitude. Wherever he may be, man must practice 
self-government ; whether he be a citizen of a kingdom, 
under the power of a tyrant, or of a republic under the 
power of a majority, or of the universe under its laws 
and forces ; everywhere he will need to practice self- 
control, and learn to adjust himself to conditions which 
he can neither change nor avoid. 

Those who would either govern or be governed well, 
must then study the art of self-control. Though we 
should be the most absolute prince, with no subject who 
should dare or wish to disobey our will, yet should we 
find self-control to be the most necessary practice for us. 
The tyrant at last finds no subject so difficult to govern 
as himself; and many have succeeded well enough with 
others, only to fail at last with self. In the assumption 
of civil authority guardsmen, soldiers and senate wait to 



52 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

carry out the imperial will. A thousand hands are eager 
to do the appointed task ; and though the wish be foolish, 
there are enough foolish subjects to carry it into quick 
effect. But no array of allied powers can aid the man 
in his government of self. No soldiers can prick the 
mind into proper action. No senate can stay the rush 
of hot blood from the heart in anger. The prince finds 
himself at last a subject, compelled to obey laws greater 
than his own. He who has so smartly taken the scepter 
finds it powerless in his hands. The crown upon his 
head is a hollow mockery, for it is not the symbol of a 
true power. The man cannot command himself; how 
then shall he command others ? 

It is seldom, almost never, that the prince learns the 
mockery of his office ; for his subjects have not discov- 
ered their own freedom. Let the people learn that there 
is no government but the government of self, and the 
fine plumage of the princely bird quickly droops. 
Whether the instituted power be vested in a king, an 
emperor, a senate, or a mere majority of equals, it thus 
appears for what it is ; a dream, a phantasy, a ghost, 
with no terrors but for children. Then legislation is 
co-operation, and the majority assumes no power over 
the minority. To this complexion all government must 
come at last. But it does not mean anarchy. It means 
a stricter government than any vested in official digni- 
ties. By as much as the laws of the universe are stricter 
and more perfect than the laws of men, by so much will 
self-government, when it is attained, be more perfect in 
its results than any government of men, however well 
conceived or executed. 

As for those things which are inevitable, and to which 
all must equally submit, philosophy can teach us how to 
bear them so that no misfortune sliall come to us ; for, 
as Seneca says, to bear misfortune nobly is good fortune. 
There will be need of the precepts of Stoicism in any 



53 

condition of life. The only freedom, at last, is the free- 
dom of the mind. That, no tyrant has ever yet abridged. 
"The emperor may chain my leg," said Epictetus, "but 
not even Zeus himself can chain my mind." The free- 
dom of the mind is the best gift of God to man. Life 
itself were a worthless gift, without that other. Life, 
with slavery to its bad conditions, would be no gift 
worthy of a benevolent God; but with freedom of the 
mind, it is divinely beautiful and good. 

A GOSPEL OF NATURE. 

I BELIEVE that this age needs nothing so much as a 
gospel of Nature ; a philosophy which shall bring man 
back to the great Order from which he has wandered so 
far. Our life is wretched and mean because we have 
clothed ourselves in illusions. Nature, Reality, is put 
wholly by, and false opinions are set up to be worshiped. 
Our education is false, because it does not lead us to 
nature, but to the opinions of our fellow-men. Find how 
Paul lived, what Moses spoke, what the state decrees, 
what society demands, what our neighbors, who are 
respectable and of proper virtue, do, and follow that. 
Dare not to look for yourself into the laws of the soul, 
and to live after those laws. So speaks the guardian of 
to-day, and most of us obey the order. But I feel a cer- 
tain leading within me which, to follow, would take me 
very far from the ways of men. Am I right to thus 
separate myself from my good neighbors, and refuse to 
live in their fashion ? Who am I, that I should depart 
alone into the wilderness, to make a Way of the Lord 
therein ? Is it possible that after so many centuries of 
life there remains any new way to be found by me ? 
May I hope to find any new path through this jungle 
that we call life, when so many brave men have explored 
it before me ? 

I ask myself these questions most gravely; and it 



54 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

seems to me that they should give me pause. And yet^ 
when I am discontented with my present way of life; 
when I feel that I am at the end of my road, and that 
unless I do make a break into the jungle I shall merely 
stand here dawdling forever; when I feel that to live 
longer in the way I now live is merely to exist, to pass 
time, to dally with eternity, what shall I do ? I cannot 
content myself with these customs of my neighbors. 
Their food, dress, habits, manner of life, speech, opinions, 
all seem to be unworthy of earnest men. 

Intimations of a life as beautiful as the flowers, as fra- 
grant, as pure, come to me faintly out of the Silence. I 
seem to hear a Voice saying : — 

" Live what thou seest ; live what thou seest ; and 
other visions yet shall be vouchsafed thee. Wait not 
for full and perfect revelation. Live the life and thou 
shalt know the doctrine. What truth thou seest, live, 
and act, and speak it forth; and when thou hast pub- 
lished one word another shall be given thee. Perform- 
ance is the price of truth forever. Use thy talent. Bury 
it not. Increase it, and more shall be given thee. Be 
faithful to the small things thou now seest, and thou 
shalt be made ruler over many." 

TIME AND THE SOUL. 
Another year has opened, according to the reckoning 
of men ; and with great celebration the world observes 
the event. But to me the change from one figure to 
another in the calendar is not significant. Human life 
should not be measured by years, but by achievements. 
What new deed may I record this day ? If some- 
thing noble, it is indeed a new year for me ; a new 
era, or cycle, has begun in me. But for the revo- 
lutions of moons, or the spinning of the earth on its 
axis, I care not. Shall I celebrate the motions of the 
clock's hands ? That is the full significance of New 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 55 

Year's day to some persons. A new year! Were not 
tlie old year good enough for what business they had 

to do? 

But I suspect that even in the dullest minds the daAvn 
of a new year in the calendar is somehow associated with 
new effort, new ideals ; as witness the common custom 
of making new resolutions at that time. This indeed 
would constitute a new year ; the birth of a higher ideal 
in the mind ; for years and cycles do at last turn upon 
the achievements of men. Do we not begin our modern 
€ra with the advent of a divinely wise and loving Man ? 
So many years before Christ; so many after; not so 
many since the conjunction of certain stars, or the 
eclipse of a particular constellation. 

So do stars and worlds, with all their motions, take 
rank secondary to a sublime human event. 'Tis the 
history of the soul that makes Time significant. In its 
last analysis, science is the study of nature in its rela- 
tions to Man. The zealous student may think that the 
fossil which he digs from the earth is of interest in 
itself ; but if he will consider it with care, he will find 
that its significance really lies in the fact that it reveals 
•somewhat of the early home and history of Man. 

I formerly wondered that the scenery of Europe, 
although doubtless in itself not superior to that of 
America, should be so much more the subject of study 
and admiration than ours, even among Americans. But 
I perceive that it is because the scenery of Europe has 
a human history. Here Napoleon fought ; there Burns 
or Shakespeare was born; these mountains cast their 
mighty shadows over the form of Goethe ; in this lake 
the poet Wordsworth saw his peaceful face; by these 
salt waters walked and talked the Man of Galilee, and 
made them beautiful forever with the glory of his radi- 
ant soul. By as much as a great man is more signifi- 
cant than a great mountain, by so much is a great 



56 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. 

mountain greater because a great man dwelt uj)on it. 
High above the tallest peaks towers a lofty human soul ; 
with a glory that dims the sheen of sunshine on its ice- 
clad summit shines a soul at one with Truth and Love 
and Good. The Brahmic Splendor, the Light of the 
Transfiguration, the Shining Raiment of the Soul, makes 
dim and ineffectual the brightest glory of nature. As 
the sun bursts in glory through parted clouds, so does 
the light of the soul burst through the clouds of 
earthly life. There is no phenomenon in nature more 
striking than the glory of the setting sun poured through 
the rifts of gathered clouds. Out of a wild, stormy 
ocean of Light, whose shore no man hath seen ; out of 
Infinity, out of the womb of space, out of Silence, throb- 
bing with life, the streams of glory come, and pour 
themselves in rivers of splendor upon the earth; but 
when the soul arises, -and through the rifted clouds of 
earthly error pours her splendid light, the glory of the 
sun is dimmed, and we leave the gorgeous spectacle of 
nature to gaze on nature's divinest work, a Soul. 

THE WOED MADE ELESH. 

We talk of ordination to the ministry, and think to 
confirm it by the laying on of hands and the uttering of 
certain words ; but experience has proved that the hands 
confer no mystic power to open the eyes of the blind or 
unstop the ears of the deaf; that the words which are 
pronounced are merely breath, which is soon dissipated 
on the air. I look for the fulfilling of that text which 
Jesus announced to his disciples : " These signs shall fol- 
low those that believe." There are sporadic instances 
of a spiritual or divine power in this age, but it goes not 
with the established ministry. Christianity can never be 
conveyed by words alone. God cannot be apprehended 
through sounds uttered by the lips. If I would preach 
God, I must represent God ; must be God, as Jesus was. 



THE soul's ^yAY OF LIFE. 57 

This Word must become flesh, and God must be born 
again in human form. We shouki preach by our pres- 
ence; by those silent, subtle emanations which denote 
the true man of God, bringing light and joy wherever 
we go. 

ASPIEATION^ OF THE SOUL. 

I DO not love solitude for its own sake ; I do love na- 
ture better for the presence of a congenial friend ; but to 
find the person whose presence does not mar the land- 
scape, whose voice does not jar in discord among nature's 
harmonies, — that is the problem. Few are worthy to 
stand as figures in the poet's or artist's landscape. 

It is because I expect so much of men that I am so 
often disappointed. A bird, a squirrel, takes its i)lace in 
the landscape, and I do not complain that it does not 
utter philosophy or engage in devotions. But a man, — 
he must at least hint to me in some way that he knows 
himself for what he is, a son of the Most High ; he must 
give me some token of his divinity, or he disappoints and 
saddens me. He, who is God conscious', should show me 
more divinity than a bird or squirrel, which are uncon- 
scious of their relation to the Supreme. 

I am as strict in my expectations of myself as of others. 
When I lose sight of my divine nature and relations, I 
seem a wretched vagrant, a homeless wanderer in Infin- 
ity. I do not respect myself ; I rather despise myself and 
look momentarily for insult and abuse, for it seems to 
me at such times that I deserve nothing else. 

I do not know why a man should breathe the sweet air, 
and absorb so much of the glad sunshine, and devour so 
much food, and occupy so much valuable space in the 
world, unless he knows himself for somewhat more than 
a beast. It seems to me that he should be put off the 
planet, and driven into some corner of the Kosmos, until 
he comes to himself, as the saying is. He should be made 



58 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

to stand in a corner, like a naughty schoolboy, until he 
will learn the lesson that all nature is teaching ; — that 
Man is the offspring of God ; that he is God, manifest or 
unmanifest, in the flesh. I have determined, for the Imn- 
dredth time, that I will not forget this fact ; that I will 
henceforth forever bear it in mind, and live accordingly ; 
but I suppose that as I have done before I shall do again, 
— forget it and play the dunce, until through punishment 
my stupid wit becomes more tentative. How a man who 
has looked on this truth with open eye, whose heart has 
burned within him at the consciousness of his own divin- 
ity, how, I say, he can for a moment forget it, and allow 
the shadows of sin and sorrow to creep around him, passes 
my understanding. But the steps to perfection are many. 
It is by slow precept and slower practice, by fallings-down 
and strugglings-upward many, that at last we enter into 
perfect peace and rest. Through aspiration, through effort 
oft repeated, do we grow daily toward the perfect stature. 
The divine waits in us sometimes for many years, whilst 
like the century-plant we are putting forth stem and leaf, 
and gathering resources for the divine blossoming. 

MAKING TRACKS FOR THE UNKNOWN. 

There is one thing which I cling to, amid all changes 
and confusions, namely, that I am somewhat else than 
this thing that crawls and peeps and mutters, — I am 
somewhat else than breaths and tears and bile, — that 
this world with its clouds and shadows is not my final 
abiding-place. I am not of time, but of eternity, and my 
true nature is not touched by these things that perplex 
me so. I fall back upon the love of God, and say that 
He who made me and the world, did not so in jest. 

I am narrowing my space daily, drawing in from the 
world and its rubbish of books, pictures, bric-a-brac, etc., 
and getting my effects in shape to march at a moment's 
notice, as a good soldier should do. I find that the way 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 59 

to broaden life is to narrow it. The road to new dis- 
cavery leads not away from self, but in toward self. In- 
numerable dark continents, unknown galaxies, wait within 
us for discovery. I would drop most of my luggage on 
the shore of the known world, and, as Thoreau suggests, 
make tracks for the Unknown. 

THE KICHES OF THE SOUL. 

I HOPE for the time when I may be as free of the 
trammels of this world's goods as was that philosopher 
who was wont to say that if the enemy should besiege 
the city he could walk out of the gate with all his pos- 
sessions. This freedom must be earned by experience ; 
it cannot be had by poverty. If I lack but still desire, I 
am not free, but a i^oor slave ; while if I have but hold 
without desire, I am free, though I be never so rich a 
man. It is not the thing that enslaves, but the love of 
the thing. It is not poverty that frees a man from desire, 
but philosophy ; and the only true freedom is in the free- 
dom of the mind from care. Asceticism is but the first 
step in virtue. To renounce that which I love is merely 
to punish myself for my own sins. The sin is not in the 
having, but in the state of mind which desires the thing. 
A foolish man will be enslaved by a few possessions. A 
poor toy can make a baby miserable for its loss. But a 
wise man may preserve his freedom even in the midst of 
luxury. It is but a weak virtue that must fill the ears 
with wax, that the song of the sirens may not be heard. 
In such a case, the will is better than the desire ; but we 
must come to a virtue that cannot feel temptation. 

There is an analogy, to my mind, between the use 
which the body makes of food and that which the soul 
should make of material things. The elements of the 
body are in a constant flux, each atom arriving, serving 
its use, and then departing ; so that the body of man is a 
sort of hour-glass, through which the sands of the physi- 



60 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

cal universe are continually running. So should tlie soul 
be, with respect to the things of the world. Let them 
arrive, serve their use, and pass on. Do not seek to fix 
them by possession. When this flux of the body ceases 
death ensues ; so, to my mind, does spiritual death ensue, 
when the soul fixes herself in the midst of material 
possessions. 

Let a man live in the midst of whatever wealth, he 
should be independent of it. It is a coiling serpent ; let 
it fasten on a man, and his life, his humanity, is crushed 
out of him. 

Possession ; what do we mean by the word ? How 
can I possess more than the spirit of the thing ? A fine 
picture is not his who buys it, but his who sees and loves 
it. These mountains, dim and blue in the morning haze, 
are not the property of the government, though ever so 
good a title may be shown to them ; but they are mine, 
thine, who see and love their grandeur. Do you think 
you can buy Beauty with so many acres of rocks and 
timber ? ISTa}^ ; Beauty is not for sale. 'Tis free, to 
whomsoever hath eyes to see. A man may well scorn 
the pride of material possession, who perceives that title 
deeds and bills of sale convey no atom of the goods. 
Save food and clothing, and a shelter from the weather, 
what needs a man that can be truly bought with money ? 
Great nature lights her sun-fires and sets the stars in the 
nightly heavens ; she makes trees to grow and flowers to 
blossom and birds to sing their enchanting music; she 
gives to the pure and earnest mind a peace which passeth 
the understanding of the sensual man, without money 
and without price ; and says to all her children, " Ho, ye 
that thirst, come and drink of the water of life, freely ! " 

TRUE BONDS OF FRIENDSHIP. 

The chief use of any man to the world is the influence 
of his aspirations. Not achievements alone can determine 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 61 

a man's value to us ; but the vision of the ideal which 
he has and gives to us, in words, on canvas, in marble, 
in stately piles of architecture. It is that which a man 
suggests, rather than that which he does, which charms 
us most. What I am is of transcendent import to my 
fellow-men; but what I aspire to be is greater. I would 
send the thoughts of men far beyond my poor achieve- 
ments, to those visions of the ideal which are yet to me 
unattainable. The divine dream, which waits yet unful- 
filled, charms me more than the good I have. Just be- 
yond the horizon, veiled in jnists maybe, waits that dream 
of the soul which we have cherished, and sometime, we 
know not when, it shall take form beside us. Harmonies 
of the higher life, sweeter than star-music, sound faintly 
in the distance, and we cannot catch the full and perfect 
symphony ; but it wakes the soul to diviner life, and tills 
us with a joy quite other than that awakened by any 
earthly music. 

We love those who dream our dreams and voice our 
highest aspirations, even though their words accuse us 
daily. We must rise now and then into the higher at- 
mosphere of the soul, even though it be upon another's 
wings ; and we who are weakest love most those who 
take us up into that divine air. We love those who ad- 
monish us of our own possibilities ; who see what we do 
not see in ourselves ; who will not be content with the 
poor estimate we put upon ourselves, but forever expect 
of us higher things than we have even dared to dream ; 
Avho refuse our lower self, and will not recognize it or 
give it the courtesy of their friendship. 

Our true friend and lover is he who loves only that 
which is ideal in us ; refusing to cherish our lesser selves, 
however they may claim his love. We wish our friend 
to forget the face of to-day, or of yesterday, and know 
only that face which is forming out of our inmost dreams, 
to shine upon him some fine new morning like a new- 



62 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. 

created star. We do not wish to be known as we are, 
but as we aspire to be ; and this fact lies back of many 
seemingly unaccountable vanities in men and women. 

What we have been and what we are, most of us are 
striving hard enough to forget ; but what we shall be Ave 
forever strive to keep in mind, and by that Ave groAv. I 
Avish my friend to know me as I shall be when I am 
worthy of his love. My friend is good to me in propor- 
tion as he declines to know my faults ; in proportion as 
he insists upon my ideals ; in proportion as he will have 
no fellowship with that in me Avhich I myself Avould Avish 
to forget. The new life in us arises refreshed and in- 
vigorated at the Avord of a friend who sees that as our 
normal possibility. 

Love feeds upon the ideal, and that alone. Let the 
bald face of fact be seen, and love flies from it as from 
a Medusa head. " Love looks not with the eyes, but with 
the mind," says Shakespeare. Cupid points not to the 
face of flesh, for he Avell knoAvs that no man Avould be in 
love with that ; but he touches that Avith his magic Avand, 
and reveals the face of the ideal, the face of the potential 
self, and straightAvay the lover is charmed and bound. 
Love dies when the ideal no longer speaks in the tones 
of the beloved. When mere Avords usurp the place of 
the musical utterance of the soul, Avhen the lips frame 
mere sounds, and not those faint Avhispers of inmost 
dream-life, then the lover's ears are sealed, and he hears 
not the voice of his beloved, but some strange, barbaric 
tongue Avliich makes no music in his heart. It is a tine 
laAv in nature that love shall thus awake only at the 
touch of the ideal in men and Avomen. By this hiAv 
children are born not of ourselves, but of our ideal 
dreams, Avhen they are born of love. Thus Ave do not 
merely reproduce ourselves, but our ideals in our chil- 
dren, Avhen they are born of true affection. While love 
lives, the race advances. 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 63 

I cannot hold your love, mj friend ; but if I look 
steadfastly upon the ideal in you, and believe in that as 
your true and abiding self, you shall be held to nie as 
with hooks of steel. Whilst I look upon that, you are 
mine and I am yours ; but when I see your faults, and 
begin to identify you with them, a force has come be- 
tween us which can sever the strongest earthly bonds. 
Let me not then look at you, but at your hopes, your 
aspirations ; and do you too look upon my hopes, and 
cherish my dreams, and believe that they are me ; for 
this is the secret of abiding love, of a friendship that 
no earthly power can ever destroy. So are souls knit 
together in a love that is endless, as the growth of the 
soul is endless ; in a friendship that death cannot destroy, 
more than he can destroy the soul itself. 

The pathetic separations of friends and lovers, husbands 
and wives, which we often witness, are due in the main 
to a separation in the inner life, which no legal or social 
remedy could ever heal. When I lose sight of that 
toward which my friend is growing, I lose my friend. 
No longer can I rightly understand his acts, or interpret 
his thoughts. He is drifting aAvay from me day by day ; 
or, rather, passing away through superior effort and 
growth. As a ship at anchor cannot keep company with 
one under sail, so a friend who looks not upon the ideal, 
Avho aspires not to live daily better and holier, cannot 
keep company with one who rises each morning nearer 
to his dreams of the day before. 

HEALTH. 

Amoxg the new gospels of life which are being pub- 
lished on every hand in these days, I look in vain for 
some adequate revelation of the laws of health. Frag- 
mentary prophecies there are, which promise much, but 
do not meet our hopes with fulfillment. We still look for 
the inspired prophet who shall reveal, in a fine frenzy of 



64 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

divine madness, the supreme laws of being, which, to 
know and obey, shall restore Man to the estate of perfect 
health which he has lost. No philosophy of life can be 
considered complete which does not set forth these laws 
of physical harmony ; for man's nature is a unit, and 
health and morals are one. Whilst waiting the perfect 
revelation, we may entertain ourselves with such frag- 
mentary glimpses of these laws of life as are vouchsafed 
to us through personal experience. We are here in the 
world, and certain laws of life are here. Let us get on 
good terms with them. We have refused their company 
too long. We have in most pig-headed fashion pushed 
along contrary to the leading of these good laws ; but no 
amount of squealing or dodging can evade them. They 
have us fast, and by the ears. W^e must obey, or we 
shall suffer still more. 

It is no argument to say that many healthy and robust 
persons live safely under these bad conditions which I 
shall expose. Nature's vengeance is slow but sure ; and 
if not in these persons, yet in their children, or children's 
children, will she show her penalty. As the spendthrift 
and prodigal son may squander much of his father's be- 
queathed fortune, and yet not die in the almshouse, so 
these rugged men may squander their inherited vigor, 
and yet not die of the tremors or insanity: but "Ven- 
geance is mine, saith the Lord ; I will repay ! " The 
sickly children of to-day had healthy grandparents. Are 
we to look to ourselves alone ? Shall we not leave some- 
thing to the future, since we have received so much from 
the past ? Shall we not even increase our inherited 
talent, and bequeath it larger to the next generation ? 
One thing is certain : if the laws of the universe endure, 
society must pay the penalty of its present mode of life. 

I would attract the attention of my neighbors to these 
laws, that through obedience they may be saved. I would 
raise up a brazen serpent, even one of brass, if so I might 



THE SOUL S WAY OF LIFE. 65 

get my fellows, bitten of the poisonous snakes of conven- 
tional society, to look up and be saved. By whatever 
proddings with sharp goads, whatever mad shriekings 
and halloings, I would stir up these drowsy folk to a 
realization of their bad condition ; and when they have 
stirred, and turned an ear toward me, I would shout into 
it, as never having another chance, these words : " Wake, 
ye dead ! Come forth from your sepulcher ! Cleanse 
yourselves ; leave your grave-clothes ; come forth into 
the pure air and sunshine ! Let the wind blow on you, 
the sun shine on you ! Abjure houses, renounce clothes, 
forswear meats, do anything that will inaugurate the 
needed reform ! Tear those rags from your back, which 
bind and hamper jou ! Cast to the pigs (poor pigs!) the 
rubbish you have furnished your table with. Clothe 
your body with raiment that shall serve it, not enslave 
it; that shall invite, not repress, all freedom of action; 
that instead of concealing and distorting, shall reveal 
the divine form and action of the body, that organ of 
the Holy Spirit. Feed your life with nature's beautiful 
products, as nearly as possible in the condition offered 
by nature for your sustenance. Cultivate a friendly 
relation with air and sunshine. Let the wind blow some- 
time on your naked body, and the warm sun kiss it with 
loving touch. Baptism, frequent baptism, not once for 
all to save your soul for heaven, but every new morn- 
ing, to preserve your body in sweetness, purity and 
health for use in this world: and then, beautiful, serene 
thoughts; thoughts of the relation between man and 
God, the individual and the Universal Life ; a receptive 
attitude of the soul to the currents of the Infinite Life 
in which man lives and moves and hath his being ; for 
thoughts are creative energy ; they will at length embody 
themselves and become flesh ; and as a man thinketh in 
his heart, so is he in outward appearance." 

O I would call my brothers up out of the slough into 



66 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

which they have descended, and re-establish them in that 
beautiful Order to which they were born. Life, life is 
beautiful and fair ! Why cut ourselves off from it, and 
become mere creeping or walking corpses ; so much dead 
and inert flesh, waiting only a proper time for burial ! 
Live ? No ! None of us live ! We are all dead or half- 
dead, the grave already yawning for us ! 

Around us, instead of the free, sweet air of he[iven, 
circulate damp currents of tomb- vapor, rank with the 
odors of decay. Our houses are for the most part sepul- 
chers. AVe close the doors and windows against the 
breath of heaven, as though it were the blast of a pesti- 
lence ; afraid to breathe air from the sky, as though God 
had poisoned it before sending it to us : afraid to let the 
sunshine through our windows, lest it steal away some 
color from our carpets ! my friend, better lose the 
color from your carpet, and keep it in your cheeks ! 

CLOTHING. 
There is a beautiful compensation in the laws of 
nature ; beautiful when we take advantage of it and get 
the good laws on our side ; but fatal when we are opposed 
to them. Do you Avish to paint that carpet with your 
life-blood ? But you do so when you preserve its color 
at your own expense. Never mind the fading of that 
line suiting. Wear it out in the sunshine. What color 
the sun takes from that he will put into your cheeks. 
Never mind if you do wear off the finish of those shoes 
or that coat. , When your garments are worn out, your 
body will be made new. That is the way to get the good 
of your clothing. Convert its strength and beauty into 
yourself. Take the wool and flax and make them bone 
and tissue. Don't throw aside your clothing when the 
ncAV is off. That is like throwing aside a dish of nourish- 
ing food when you have just tasted of it. There are ten 
pounds of flesh in those old trousers, that old coat. Why 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 67 

til row away that flesli, when you stand so much in need 
of it ? Oh ! You have too much ? Let me whisi^er to 
you a most curious secret concerning the laws of clothing. 
When you have properly used this clothing, worn it 
utterly out (not in merely, but out, I say), there has 
been a most curious transformation. It represented so 
many pounds of flosh, I said. But this value is either 
plus or minus, according to your need. If you had too 
much flesh, this clothing is a minus quantity; and you 
find that it has taken your flesh, and you do not know 
where it has put it. But if you needed that flesh, you 
find that you have it, and you do not know where it came 
from. friends, wear your clothing out, wear it out, I 
say ! So many of us wear ourselves out instead of our 
clothing ; and we can easier find new clothing than new 
bodies. 

'Tis in vain that we use clothing as a disguise, to hide 
our weakness and debility ; in vain that we seek to put 
on beauty with a new dress or new coat. It is health 
that makes any clothing beautiful. Do we admire the 
beauty of the shroud ? Why not ? Because no life 
transforms it from rags to raiment A healthy body is 
beautiful in whatever dress. A sickly body is not 
beautiful, and no dress can conceal its deformity. Why 
watch with such solicitude the fashions, as they come 
and go ? Can we put on beauty with the latest cut of 
robe from Paris ? Nay ; it cannot be had so. God h?.s 
not given his patterns for beauty to the tailors and dress- 
makers, to be sold for money. But have health, my 
brother, my sister, and Solomon in all his glory was not 
arrayed as you shall be. 

AETIFICIAL HEAT. 

Nature gave us a heating apparatus when she sent us 
into the world, which, stiff-necked and rebellious that Ave 
are, we have put away, and taken in its place idolatrous 



68 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. 

stoves, grates, furnaces, steam-pipes and the like ; inven- 
tions, all, of the Evil One, who is the King of Fire. 
These things he has sent us, to prepare us by parboiling 
here for the eternal boiling and roasting to come. I 
doubt not but that the fall of man was in some way 
closely related to artificial heat. Why was a flaming 
sword placed to guard Eden? That was evidently a sym- 
bol of man's degradation. He had misused Eire, and Eire 
is still between him and Eden. Our food, our bodies, are 
boiled and baked until the life is well-nigh gone from us. 
We make in the midst of our Arctic winter a troj^ical 
climate. We alternate between these daily, passing at 
one step from equator to pole, from pole to equator. Is 
it strange that our poor bodies cannot stand such a strain? 
Nature has put six months between January and August. 
We leap that space in a second. By the opening and 
closing of a door, we pass from summer to winter, from 
winter to summer. And then we marvel and complain 
that we have catarrh, bronchitis, colds, coughs, consump- 
tion; and lay upon good Providence what we have brought 
upon ourselves by our folly and atheism. We put our 
horses and cattle into sheds, without fire or blankets; 
and nature warms them from within. We should be as 
self-reliant and complete as they. In our advance from 
them mindward we should not leave anything good behind; 
but carry with us to the service of mind their animal 
health and vigor. The Eskimos live in the coldest cli- 
mate, and yet they have no fire in their houses of ice. 
With as good a constitution as the Eskimo's, we think 
we must heat our houses to a tropic temperature in order 
to exist at all. We have not suspected the resources of 
nature. She Avill answer any demand, give her but time 
enough. In the slow course of the seasons she has ample 
time to adjust all organisms to the changes in tempera- 
ture. But if we forestall her efforts by maintaining an 
equable temperature she does not protect us. If we 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 69 

should remain in an equable temperature, all would be 
well; but we pass from the heat within to the cold with- 
out the house, and nature cannot protect us on so short a 
notice. Hence we suffer, and must suffer until we learn 
a better way. AVe have been steadily going in the wrong 
direction with our civilization, and it is high time we 
should call a halt. We enervate our bodies by luxury, 
and then we wonder where our vital strength has fled. 
Nature is a wise economist. She wastes no favors where 
they are not needed. Each organism in nature is fur- 
nished with all that is necessary to insure its maintenance. 
For securing food it has roots, claws, or teeth. For 
warmth, bark, fur, hair, feathers, and a respiratory and 
circulatory system. Man has a furnace in his body, with 
pipes to convey the heated fluid to all parts of the house. 
Why shut the drafts in this furnace, and turn the dampers 
in the pipes, and shorten its fuel, in order that the furnace 
in the cellar may be more necessary? Our philosophy of 
health must be based upon this principle: Demand 
creates its oivn supply, and use is the price of possession. 

"What!" you say; "shall we put away clothes, and 
go naked into the winter streets?" Yes, if that is the 
best use you can make of the truth I show you. " Shall 
we put away stoves and radiators, and steam-pipes and 
furnaces, and shiver in our desolate homes?" Yes, if 
you can see no other way to reform yourself. I indicate 
laws, not the application of them. The law that I reveal 
is organic self-reliance ; defenses from witliin, not with- 
out; the power of self-adjustment, and the relation 
between demand and supply, organ and function. 

FOOD. 
Never eat when you are not hungry, but do something 
to make yourself hungry. Never seek to create an appe- 
tite by artificial means, but only by the means ordained 
o.f nature, — exercise, always in the open air. Stop eat- 



TO LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

ing when you have had enough. Do not eat for the taste 
of the food. There are two kinds of relish for food. 
One is the relish which hunger gives, which makes the 
coarsest food desirable. The other is a certain artificial 
pleasure, derived from spices, condiments, and flavors, 
which tempts one to eat long after the natural and 
healthy appetite has been satisfied. Nature always makes 
us pay for this latter indulgence, which is a form of 
sensuality. A healthy and normal appetite can be secured 
only by acting in accordance with nature's laws. Hotels 
vie with each other to furnish a tempting menu; but the 
hotel which could furnish a healthy appetite would dis- 
tance all its competitors. Millionaires would empty 
their purses for that. But money cannot buy it. He 
who would traffic with nature must pay her full price, 
and in her own coin. Our stamped gold and silver and 
printed greenbacks are not legal tender with her. She 
refuses them all. She has plenty of gold in her coffers. 
It was thence man stole it, the thief ! and now he would 
offer it to her in payment for her benefits. "No, no, my 
good sir; none of your promises; none of your gold; but 
performance ! performance ! " 

HOME AND FURNISHINGS. 

When I walk in the woods I think I am the richest 
man in Boston. There I inhabit a house which no human 
art can rival. Its ceiling is the blue sky, frescoed with 
the waving branches of trees. Living artists with invis- 
ible brushes are painting it in ever-changing forms and 
hues. It is lighted by the Source of light. All men 
must light their lamps at the one that shines in my house. 
Back Bay chandeliers cannot rival the splendor of the 
candelabra of the stars, which swings nightly in my 
house. Its carpet is the product of a loom whose cunning 
the looms of Lowell and Lawrence but poorly imitate. 
That carpet no moths can corrupt, no thieves can steal. 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 71 

For furniture, what mossy boulders ! Seats upholstered 
in a style no dealer of New York or Boston can imitate ! 
living plush ; velvet thrilling and pulsing with the Life 
that stirs in me also; and when I recline on these, it is 
Life, and not death, that embraces me. Your avooI, your 
silk, your linen, are all dead! dead! once alive, and in 
their place; but now dead, out of their place, and fast 
enough decaying ! I shudder when I face this fact — 
that in our civilization we are actually housed in death, 
clothed in death, fed on death ! Is it any wonder we are 
dead or half dead ourselves? No, but rather a wonder 
that we can make shift to live at all, in such a sepulchral 
environment. Do you think there is no difference be- 
tween life and death? So little are we acquainted with 
Life that it is not surprising we see so little to lament in 
this omnipresence of death and decay. 

What would I have you do, you ask? Nothing, till 
you are compelled by your own perception. When you 
see these things to be true that I have said, you will 
adjust your life accordingly. I cannot do that for you. 
I can only adjust my own ; and it has taken me years to 
do that. Slowly, painfully, I have struggled to extricate 
myself from the bonds of death in which I was reared. 
Heir to weakness and disease, educated by society into 
false ways of living and thinking, it is the Lord's doing, 
and marvelous in mine eyes, that I have got even thus 
far on the road back to nature. I would not prescribe 
your food, drink, clothing, shelter, mode of life. These 
are nothing, of themselves. To commence at that end is 
to seize the thing by the wrong handle, as Epictetus 
would say; and you could never lift it. But if you see 
these laws which I see and announce, the rest will take 
care of itself. In my case it has meant a change in diet, 
drink, clothing, manner of life; most greatly, a change 
in my opinions and conduct. But perception must pre- 
cede action, or action is void. Look up ! See how beau- 



72 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

tiful is this living world. Sense the thrill of Life, Life, 
everywhere. Know yourselves as one with that Life; 
pure with its Purity, beautiful with its Beauty, strong 
with its Strength. See these laws of the universe, which 
shape the flower, the crystal, the star; know that these 
wait on you, to mold you into perfect Beauty. See 
them, never close your eyes more to them ; and they shall 
inhabit you, and shall make you their own, and you shall 
Live; as beautiful as the flowers, as pure as the snow- 
flake, as wise as the Laws themselves, which know all 
things; as good, and as loving, as the Spirit of all this 
Universe, which exists for joy. 

THE SOUECE OF HEALTH. 

Of all the delusions under which sick people labor, 
it seems to me that the most irrational is that which 
prompts them to travel about the earth in search of 
health. The good creator has made a beautiful earth, 
filled it with plenty, dressed it in forests and mountains, 
bejeweled it with fountains and lakes, all for the delec- 
tation of man. Health permeates it everywhere, the 
very air is life, and the sunshine is laden with vigor. 
We cannot breathe without imbibing life. The water 
we drink throbs with it. The fruits of the trees are 
vibrating with it. And yet poor, weak, foolish man, 
ignorant of the presence all around him of that which 
he lacks, rushes frantically over the earth, climbs moun- 
tains, wanders in forests, or by the shore of the sea, 
drinks of poisonous waters at mineral springs, bathes in 
mud or water reeking with minerals, eats foods fearfully 
and wonderfully made, imbibes drugs by the gallon, and 
thinks thus to get that health which is his by natural 
right. We must learn to find health where it is, and not 
so busily seek it where it is not. We must learn to con- 
centrate our effort, and instead of expending it in travel- 
ing over the country, utilize it in taking advantage of the 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 73 

elements of health where we are. In every country of 
the earth people are sick, and people die. At sea-level, 
on mountain summits in a rare atmosphere, in cold regions 
and in hot, in damp and in dry atmospheres, people are 
sick, and people die. Go to a certain place for health, 
and the train which takes you in is taking other people 
out, in search of the same object. You go to the sea- 
shore and another is leaving for the mountains, for the 
same reason. We act altogether as though health were 
some sort of line bird, which we should chase with great 
zeal until we get close enough to put salt on her tail and 
thus catch her. Or, as though disease were a sort of 
demon or wraith which we might escape or dodge by fast 
enough traveling. But we find that this Demon travels 
as- fast as we. We go to the seashore, and the Demon 
arrives on the same train. We go up a mountain, and 
the Demon greets us at the summit, with a broad and 
malicious grin. He can stand hot weather or cold, wet 
atmospheres or dry, low or high altitudes; we cannot 
freeze him out, nor sweat him out, nor starve him out. 
He follows us like a shadow, and darkens our path every- 
where. Shall we not see at last that we cannot run 
away from him, but must stand fast and fight him 
where we are, until we overcome him ? Let us save 
our strength and exert it upon the Demon. If I am to 
wrestle with this adversary I must not run all the way 
to the arena. I should arrive fresh and vigorous, and 
vanquish him at one effort. 

I will no longer retreat from this demon of disease. I 
will meet him in open battle, and one or the other of us 
shall hck the dust. There is not room for both of us in 
this small body. He or I must vacate. I think that I 
have the advantage of him to begin with, for this body 
was made for me, and belongs to me. He is a trespasser, 
an invader, and has never had a title to his claim. I 
have some use for this body which I dwell in, and do not 



74 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

propose to vacate in the interests of a vagrant, a mere 
squatter. I shall order him off my premises, and not 
seek to leave him behind by rapid traveling. He can go 
faster than I, on land, on the sea, through the air. He 
can climb, he can swim, he can fast, he can endure cold 
and heat. He will bear neglect, insult, pity, scorn, con- 
tempt, wrath. He cannot be put out by prayer nor by 
entreaty. Especially is he not of the kind that goeth 
but by fasting. He can be got rid of only by the most 
heroic treatment. He must be utterly overcome, van- 
quished, slain. Let me then make it the business of 
my life to overcome this Demon, and engage in no other 
work till he be slain. I will not run away, I will not 
retreat, I will stay where I am, stand my ground, and 
have it out with him. Life or death, I care not which, 
waits on the issue. To live is pleasant, with health ; 
death is welcome without. 

When you have come to this mood, my good patient, 
you are on the road to recovery. Death and disease flee 
from this spirit of courage. Disease is a coward, his 
courage all assumed from your weakness. A single firm 
word, a single tone of courage, sends him trembling back 
to the shadows whence he came. He is a demon of dark- 
ness, and cannot stand the light of truth. Live in the 
light, not of the sun alone, but of the orb of faith and 
hope. Bask in that bright atmosphere, and the demons 
of disease must leave you forever. 

SELF-CULTUEE. 

Our youth are ambitious of success in the world. 
They enter the games of life, to strive for the wreath of 
victory. But they do not see that the strongest wrestler 
they can meet is the image of themselves. They go about 
challenging this one and that, forgetting that the wrestler 
must at last wrestle with the angel of self, as Jacob did, 
and cease not till blessed of him. The Goliath for every 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 75 

David to overthrow is his own worldly self ; towering- 
huge and impudent, bawling out in the conceit of personal 
power, challenging the soul to combat. Have at him, 
brave youth, not with the cumbersome armor of tradi- 
tional fashion, but with the sling and pebble of simple 
truth. Cut off his head Avith his own sword of worldly 
power. When thou hast slain him, thou hast slain thy 
tens of thousands of other foes, who are but represented 
in him. 

The public is a necessary target for every man's best 
effort : but the wise archer knows that not the target, but 
the shooting ; not the hitting or missing of the mark, but 
the strength that comes of the exercise, is the true end 
of the game. 

The master of the games of life has well concealed 
this secret from those who would be injured by knowing 
it. The secrets of God are imparted only to the wise, 
who, having undergone the necessary discipline, are pre- 
pared to receive the esoteric doctrine. The wreath of 
victory, the applause of the multitude, the desire of ex- 
celling, are the means employed by a wise Master to 
stimulate the contestants to achievement. But the wreath 
crumbles, the applause and the multitude die and are no 
more, the desire of victory is sated by conquest, and at 
last dawns upon the mind of the contestant the use and 
value of these things ; and he perceives that in himself 
is his reward, everlasting. 

This is not the doctrine of a narrow selfishness. Man 
is a social creature, and his relations to society indicate a 
broad margin to all his efforts. But these relations will 
take care of themselves. He can serve his fellows only 
through self-achievement. What he achieves, he promul- 
gates. What he becomes, he publishes abroad. His 
most secret virtue is trumpeted from the housetops. What 
he secretly aspires to, becomes a banner of inspiration to 
his fellows. The voice that he obeys, calling him up 



76 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

higher and higher, sounds through him to others ; and 
his ears, hearing that voice, become ears for all men. The 
individual man is the channel through which God influ- 
ences other men. 

There is a pure contentment in these thoughts. I will 
not rush abroad on errands of benevolence, making of 
philanthropy a business, an end in itself. But I will at 
home, in the street, in the market, wherever I meet men, 
be to them an example of serenity and trust, of virtue 
and valor, of courage and hope. 

Why then fret thyself about thy relations to thy fel- 
low-men ? These were established from Eternity. Thou 
hast nothing to do with these. Thy part is to live thy 
life in conformity with thy best perceptions of truth and 
good. As for thy neighbors, they shall be influenced by 
thee above thy will or planning. Do thou but live thine 
own life truly, and thou shalt serve all men. The fra- 
grance of thy life shall fill the world with a sweet 
incense. Seek not a public place, nor a public work. Do 
thou but seek the Source of thy life. There thou shalt 
thrive and grow, and fill the world with thy presence. 
Know thou that thy personal life is a thing of no account. 
Why fret thyself for food, for drink, for raiment, for the 
opinions of thy fellow-men ? There is but one aim for 
thee, but one worthy ambition ; to live at all times after 
thy best and truest insight. Follow thy genius. The 
perceptions that come to thee, out of the universe of 
Thought, heed thou them, and naught else. 

'Tis not by going toward the world that thou canst 
find the world's best gifts. Do thou but leave the world 
and all its gifts behind thee, as a cast-off garment, and 
thou shalt possess it all. Men shall hasten to pour out 
their riches before thee. Scorn wealth, it hastens to thy 
side. 

Thou art anxious to help thy fellow-men. Thou seekst 
strenuously some means whereby thou mayst aid them 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 77 

Thou hast not perceived that thyself is thy best gift to 
the world. Give thyself, pure, honorable, loyal to truth 
and right. This is the greatest gift. Thou wouldst 
speak and write to thy fellow-men. See that thou utter- 
est forth nothing but thyself; thy life, passed through 
the fire of thought and love. Live earnestly, seeking 
only to fulfill thy destiny, according to the will of God ; 
and the story of thy daily life shall be a gospel. 

Only so can man serve man ; at last only by himself 
living that life he would have his brother live. That 
shall publish itself, in all languages. No roll of parch- 
ment can contain that story. It is published by the Soul, 
through all her forms of speech. 

Wouldst thou aid the poor? Show them how to be 
rich in thought. Poverty is not the absence of gold and 
silver. These cannot make any man rich. The greatest 
souls, the happiest souls of the world's history, have been 
men poor after the fashion of the world. Blessed may 
be the poor in worldly goods ; for in spirit theirs may be 
the kingdom of heaven. 

Thou canst not serve men directly, but only indirectly. 
If thou wouldst teach them love, be thyself their lover. 
If thou wouldst teach them purity, let thy life be thy 
evangel. Whatsoever thou wouldst that men should be 
unto thee, be thou even so unto them : for this is the law 
and the prophets. Thou canst never preach truth and 
love to thy fellow-men in words only. Thou must have 
the gift of tongues, which is the speech of the soul, the 
speech of character, the language of being. What thou 
sayest, thy fellows will not hear, or else soon forget: 
what thou art, the blindest shall see, and the dullest 
understand. Let but a man see that he is humanity, 
that the race stands or falls in him, and self-discipline 
becomes the road to all achievement and power. Cease 
this restless striving with thy brothers, and calmly set 
thine own soul in order. Dost thou think to get the 



78 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

beam out of thine eye by plucking at tlie mote in tliy 
brother's eye ? Nay, nay : get the beam out of thine 
own eye, and the mote is already gone from thy brother's 
eye. 

ETHICS AND ACTION. 

We must not separate ethics from life, and make it an 
abstract thing, to be emptily talked of on Sundays, and 
worshiped, perchance, as a thing beautiful, but not 
applicable to the affairs of the world. Keligion should 
not be a thing apart, but the spirit of all things. The 
principles of mathematics are valueless until they find an 
application in the affairs of life. Twice two is four : of 
what value is this in itself ? None. But when it helps 
me to compute my brother's dues, or aids me to solve the 
practical problems of my daily experience, it is of ser- 
vice. So these ethical principles are of no use until they 
become the spirit of action and speech. Let me act these 
truths, and they are of service. Where the truth is 
merely uttered and sung, the spirit of God is not. 

I would not ignore the value of speech, as an inspira- 
tion to action ; but let it be looked to that action is its 
end, and itself only a means; els6 is it poisonous and 
deadly. Separate the mind from action, let it dwell in 
the atmosphere of abstract thought, and it quickly perishes 
or becomes insane. 

PHYSICS AND METAPHYSICS. 

One day a poor, forlorn-looking kitten came to my 
kitchen. I opened the door, and she sneaked in, trem- 
bling. She looked fit for any crime, save that her evil 
intention lacked courage for execution. She had the air 
of a Cain, fleeing from his brother's murder. 

I set a dish of milk upon the floor. At once she mani- 
fested an interest in life. She lapped it greedily, and 
when I filled the dish again, again she emptied it. 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 79 

Now a wonder was manifested in my little teacher, sent 
of God. The world began to brighten to her. She became 
an optimist, and began to praise God by frisking and 
jumping. She coquetted with her tail, chasing it with 
more zeal and joy than men chase the objects of their 
desire, and with at least as much success. She had for- 
gotten that it was fast to the opposite extremity, and 
that, whirl as she would, she could never overtake it; but 
men are not more wise. 

I dropped a ball of yarn on the floor, and this was her 
immediate heaven. She tossed it into the air, and bit it in 
play, and struck it from her, and chased it again. She 
assumed indifference, to see if the ball would manifest 
anxiety; but as it lay still, she pounced on it again. For 
an hour she prolonged this to me instructive spectacle, 
with all the joy of innocent nature. 

But what had wrought this mighty change? What 
potent agency was it that had brought the world out of 
darkness and the pit, and filled it with sunshine and joy 
for her? Xo metaphysics, but only a poor dish of milk; 
so closely is the stomach related to the soul. 

Is this the refutation of all idealism? No ; but it shows 
us that matter is not to be trifled with. God did not make 
the world in vain. These mountains and rocks, rivers 
and seas, have a meaning for us. There is a difference 
between white and black, between hot and cold, between 
meat and poison. To teach us these facts is the office of 
matter. Let us then be materialists when dealing with 
matter, and idealists when dealing with ideas. Idealism 
is the philosophy of the subjective, materialism the 
science of the objective. There should be no discord 
between the two. 



80 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

THE PUBLIC MAN. 

The man called public is not so in the real sense. He 
serves for the most part private and individual ends, not 
public and universal ones. I feel that at last I am to be 
a strictly public man through the most private and soli- 
tary manner of life. I am at last to be settled not in 
another parish, but at the core and center of Eeality. I 
am to settle upon my own center, and run no longer about 
the circumference or periphery of things. When a man 
finds his own center, he for the first time becomes settled. 
He may thenceforth wander however much over the face 
of the earth, but he never travels away from home. But 
until a man does find himself, his center, his relation to 
the universe, he may plant himself in one village, in one 
house, for ninety years, and still he is unsettled. I would 
plant myself on the center of Self, and thus find the 
center of Man. 

My friends, to whom I have announced this intention, 
cannot understand me. They say I have no right to 
renounce my "useful career," to follow my own inclina- 
tion for solitude. I cannot make them see that I am just 
beginning to serve men when I retreat from them. My 
friends think that to serve men I must mingle with them ; 
in the street, the market, or at least in the church. They 
do not understand me when I say that it is not by meet- 
ing and mingling with men's bodies, but with their 
minds, that I can serve them. I think that he who solves 
the problem of life for himself has solved it for his neigh- 
bors, so far as he can solve anything for them. Why go 
to my neighbors as I am, and take their time with my 
babble and nonsense? Let me become somewhat better 
than they, before I call their attention to myself. When 
I am so busy talking with them, and dealing with them, 
I have no time to grow with them. 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 8i 



THE MYSTEEY OF LIFE. 

We do not know the reason of the simplest thing. 
Why does the blade of grass grow upward? Why does 
the vine trail or climb? Who made the willow to droop, 
and the pine to hold its leafy crown aloft ? The merest 
worm that crawls defies the reason of man to find its 
origin, or the reason of its existence. The insect that 
buzzes in the air, the moth that flutters over the meadow, 
why do these exist? Does any man know? Verily, this 
knowledge is too high for us ; we cannot attain unto it. 
No soul has solved the mystery of life's purpose. I 
asked a man of nearly sixty years whether he could leave 
life, satisfied that he had discovered its meaning. " Nay," 
said he, " I know nothing. I have lived, and I shall die; 
that is all I know." He had studied well, read philoso- 
phy, ancient and modern; had become familiar with the 
widest researches of science ; had questioned the oracle 
of the soul most earnestly for years; and was at last 
standing on the threshold of eternity, shading his eyes 
with his hand, striving to penetrate the gloom of the 
beyond. Life had taught him much, for it had taught 
him how to live; but of its purpose it had taught him 
nothing. The cause, the meaning, the destiny of human 
life, of these he had learned nothing. 

Out of Infinity we come forth into Time. We wake in 
a beautiful world and do not remember whence we came. 
That sleep, of which birth is an awakening,— what dreams 
had we in that slumber? That other sleep, of which 
death is the eye-closing, — what dreams await us there? 
Alas ! How shall we know? Are we awake even in this 
hour? Are we not dreaming now? Who knows? 

How poorly do our priests and teachers answer us these 
questions ! Let us think for ourselves, brothers, and see 
what answer the oracle will give us in reply to our earnest 
questioning. Plato cannot answer any question for me. 



82 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. 

He answered few at most, and these were all for Plato, 
not for me. Nor do I presume to answer any question 
for you, my friend. You must answer your own. I 
merely indicate what questions I have asked of the oracle, 
and what answers have been given me. If perchance my 
questions are also yours, possibly my answers may be 
helpful. But accept them not as full explanations. I 
do but hint, indirectly, and you cannot possibly entrap 
me into any presumptuous answers. 

I brood much on the mystery of life. What is it? 
What is its purpose? Does he live most wisely who 
knows nothing of and cares nothing for these questions? 
The mass of men, I think, do not ask any questions of 
life. They live from day to day, suffer and enjoy, and 
when the end of life comes they depart, with perhaps a 
prayer for the safety of their soul ; but life is not an awful 
mystery to them ; they do not tremble to apprehend that 
they live; they do not face terrors daily, hourly, in the 
doubts that haunt them ; they do not realize what a fear- 
ful thing it is to be born. 

Who knows the mystery of life and death? We are 
here; we know that, or dream it; whence came we? 
Whither are we going? Why are we alive, with no ade- 
quate consciousness of the purpose and end of life? We 
are like a company of actors sent into a strange country, 
but without having any parts assigned to them, or any 
directions for their conduct. Each plays what he fancies, 
there is no unity of action, no intelligent co-operation. 
They have forgotten whence they came, and why they 
came ; and what to do they know not. Is it any wonder 
that they make merry, each in his own fashion, and 
live in and for the day only? Perhaps this is wisest 
action. Who knows? Perhaps the hour that now is 
embraces all of duty, all of obligation. Perhaps sensa- 
tion is the only law; pleasure the end of life; self- 
interest the only guide. Let us air these doubts, and 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 8S 

have a fair look at them. They will not be whistled down. 
They will not get them behind us at our bidding. They 
will ever and again face us, till we solve and thus forever 
dismiss them. 

It is not wise to hush the first questionings of the 
Avorld-brain. It hath its lessons to learn, and must find 
its own answers to all its questions. Not yet may the 
soul dictate to the brain her lofty oracles of truth. This 
is the day of Intellect, and we must respect it. Because 
man is fallen out of his celestial order of life, there is a 
separation between the soul and the brain. We must be 
patient, and treat our doubts with respect, until such time 
as they answer themselves. 

To know intellectually the meaning of life is a feat 
unattainable at present. To feel that it answers some 
good end; that an act so majestic in its prologue must 
have a noble ending; that the experiences of earth-life 
are as beads upon an eternal string of consciousness : this 
is possible, and perhaps justifiable even by what we know. 

We look for immediate answers to our questions. But 
the Great Mystery shall not be lightly solved. Let us 
take Life for what it is; — a vast, unsearchable Mystery, 
a Phenomenon, whose awful appearance, too deeply pon- 
dered, may strike us mad. What are we, that we should 
reach forth our hand to pluck the fruit of this tree of 
Knowledge? The stars and the worlds are the apples of 
this Tree; black Chaos the soil in which its roots are 
fixed; out of deeps infinite flow rivers of Force which 
nourish its growth. It is not for us to know its origin. 

Let it content us to know that Good rules in the 
Kosmos. Not on my terms, but on the terms of Supreme 
Good, shall I live life. These affairs which engage me, 
though they seem great to me, are but falling leaves in 
the forest of Life. 

The significance of Life does not appear in Time. The 
illusions of life engage us, we are cheated into false esti- 



84 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

mates, we deem this or that trifle the end and aim of all 
endeavor; but serenely moves the Life-current on which 
we disport, flowing between the banks of Time to Eter- 
nity; with infinite composure the Genius of Life observes 
our puny struggles, and smiles at our joys and sorrows. 
We are made aware that Life overreaches the bounds 
of the senses; that its relations are with Infinities and 
Eternities; and we know at last that the Soul is the 
only Keality amid infinite appearances. 

It is not for play that man is placed here, amid shoot- 
ing fire-balls and wild tumultuous forces. It is for Work, 
for Action. A seething sea, beat and tossed by Time's 
hard blasts; a wild light bursting through the rifted 
clouds above it ; faint music of far-off spheres mingling 
with the storm-symphony ; a star here and there, shoot- 
ing its lance of light doAvn through the battling cloud- 
hosts ; such as this is the picture of life on the earth. 
Whence, whence is this mysterious life, throbbing, pulsing, 
beating ; surging above time and space, flowing out into 
Eternity ? Alas, poor man ! thou canst not solve these 
dark riddles. Thou canst only Trust, and rest upon the 
Love of God. Thou art, and that is enough for thee. 
Not chaos hath brought thee forth. Child of Light thou 
art, the eternal Flame-Spirit burning in thee. Thy des- 
tiny is such as befits thy nature. The universe Is, thou 
Art. " Think ye that He created them in jest ?" 

Let the vision of these truths cheer thee in the midst 
of trials. Keturn, from thy battling with the world, upon 
thy real and immortal nature. The darts of pain and 
grief cannot reach thee there. Serene, tranquil, joyous, 
thy soul cannot be moved. 

THE TRUE CHURCH. 
I AM wrestling in spirit with my problem, which is, 
the relation of the priest to society and the church. The 
methods of the church are precisely the reverse of the 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 



85 



divine ones. Can I redeem the institution by sufficient 
love and faith? Shall I stake all on the laws of the 
soul ^ My Genius bids me say to my people : " You 
are groping in the dark. You are lost. Come, rally on 
the soul's side. Cast off these chains of conventionality. 
Stand free. Unite with me to live the ideal hfe. Love 
thy neighbor better than thyself. Let that be our law. 
Look not for numbers in our church, but for earnestness, 
sincerity, devotion to high ends. Think not that you 
must pay me a stated salary. Give as you are moved, 
and I am blessed in the receiving. Anything less is 
poisonous. Raise no moneys by frivolous means. I can 
live hard, eat little, sleep on a bed of straw. I can hve 
so as to shame the spurious luxury of your lives, ihmk 
not to degrade me to a lower level of life by giving me 
the means of luxury. Expect me not to follow your ways 
of life. I call you to follow me, as I follow Him who 
leads me. I shall forget your names save to remember 
that they are all written in the Book of Life. I shall 
not always see you when I meet you, because I am look- 
in- over your heads. I shall not always speak when i 
pa^ss, because I am preoccupied in another conversation. 
My Genius speaks to me, and I have no ears for your 
discourse. Expect me not to be social with you. I have 
too much other company to entertain. The gods are 
beckoning to me continually. If I do not heed their in- 
vitation, I shall be unworthy to accept yours ; it i do, 1 
shall have no time. I cannot pledge myself to dress 
conventionally at all times. There is a fashion set from 
on high, and I would follow that, even though I should 
neglect all other. Life is more than meat, and the body 
more than raiment. If you see my clothes, I am un- 
worthy of them, whatever they may be. I cannot promise 
to preach the accepted dogmas. I must preach what i 
see, or keep silence. Truth comes not from below, nor 
about, but from above. Eeligion is not brewed out ot 



8b LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

the elements of the world, boiled up together in a church 
pot ; but it is a spirit from on high, descending out of 
purer regions to vivify the world. I would bring that 
spirit into our midst. With that, we shall be a church, 
not have one. Without it, we are already entombed 
beneath the pile that we have builded." 

REXUNCIATIOK 

The ancient philosopher first made himself independ- 
ent of the world's benefits, and then went forth to teach 
it truth. When he had put all things under his feet, he 
could speak truth without fear. He feared not kings 
nor tyrants, for they could take nothing from him. 
Their riches he despised, their threats he laughed at. 
Secure from all injury, he might be the prophet of stern 
truth among men. 

We must have this independence of the world's benefits 
before we can teach truth. We need not assume poverty, 
but we must be ready and willing to do so, if circum- 
stances should demand it. We need not live upon meal 
and water so long as loyalty to truth brings us something- 
better. But woe unto him who has luxury at the expense 
of virtue. 

I do not believe men are so utterly depraved that they 
will stone or starve every prophet. But I would warn 
the prophet that he must be willing to accept this fate, 
if it should come to him. Let a man count the cost, and 
then act. Not all soldiers are killed or wounded, but no 
man should put on the garb of war who fears either 
wounds or death. 

When a man has taught himself to do without the 
benefits of the world, he may safely accept and use them. 
But all things, even life itself, must be held delicately, 
subject to the demand of Duty. 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 87 



THE BABBLER AND THE SCORNEE. 

I AM SO impressed with the holy office of the Pulpit 
that it seems to me I can never find a word worthy to be 
uttered there. thoughtless man, that darest to invade 
that Holy Place with thy vain babbling ! Dost thou not 
perceive that thou art in the presence of God? And 
wilt thou utter vain nonsense, mere rhetoric, when thou 
shouldst be on thy knees before God, bidding Him speak 
to thy People ? And these worshipers : for what have 
they gathered here ? Is it to spend a comfortable hour, 
contemplating the affairs of the world, gazing at each 
other's raiment, or listening with flattered ears to unctu- 
ous utterances of a man with a priest's robe on his shoul- 
ders ? Ah, ye people ! Know ye not that ye are in the 
presence of Eternity ? Know ye not that Life's Mystery 
broods in this Holy Place ? 

Out of the Silence come whispers of things too great 
for man's poor ears to hear outspoken. Listen, ye souls, 
mystery-haunted: hearts, hold your wild beating, and 
hearken to those Whispers ; those Faint Intimations of 
Divine Things ! Hope not to solve the Mystery. Ex- 
pect not the full and perfect Light, but wait prayerfully 
and with pleading souls for the least gleam of Light out 
of the Darkness. 

Life! Mystery, too great for speech! The Soul 
and its Destiny ! AVhence ? Whither ? Shall any pro- 
fane babbling drown those faint Whispers? Shall I 
smite these listening souls with any vain utterance of 
mine, when they are in this Presence ? 

that we might have one hour of real Worship, one 
hour of downright Prostration before the Mystery of the 
Soul ! That we might for but one hour in a week, yea, 
one in a year, fall prostrate and worshiping before that 
Mystery ! Is man become dead and senseless ? Are we 
wholly bewitched with Things, that we are so insensible 



88 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

of Life ? For what are we here, in this world ? To 
what end did we take wing out of Eternity into Time ? 
Does any know ? Did any Soul bring a memory of that 
world into this ? Who shall speak to us the Solvent 
Word ? Is not the Church the fit place for the contem- 
plation of this Infinite Mystery ? After all our Science 
may we not yet prostrate ourselves there before the Un- 
solved Mystery of Life ? Is Prayer so foolish, in the 
presence of this Mystery ? Is there nothing in this 
illimitable Universe but these poor wriggling things we 
call men ? Is there nothing but fire balls spinning in 
their aimless orbits, or globes rolling like unruddered 
ships upon the sea of space, their passengers helpless 
victims of blind, chaotic storms ? This shining fabric of 
the Universe, is it a fool's motley, a death's-head its fit 
accompaniment ? 

Mystery, mystery, everywhere; and yet men are so 
pert and saucy in the x^resence of it! So heedless, so 
frivolous, like children sporting on the beach of the In- 
finite Sea. Do not these clouds touch us with wonder, 
that sweep through the high air ? Ah no ! for we have 
found that they are only steam. Does not the flash of 
the lightning and the roar and rumble of the thunder fill 
us with amazement ? No ! forsooth ! we know what that 
is. We can make as loud a noise with cannon ; and as 
for the lightning, we have trapped that, and know all 
about it. We have caught these old gods, and find them 
only images. Pull down the temples, for the gods are 
dead ! Break to pieces the ancient altars, for we shall 
not sacrifice thereon any more, nor fall prostrate before 
them. We have exposed these mysteries. The universe 
is dust, whirled by Blind Force ; man a louse, crawling 
upon a dunghill ! This illimitable Space, filled with roll- 
ing worlds ; we know what that is well enough. We have 
explored it all with our fine telescopes. We have sur- 
veyed and mapped this Illimitable. We have learned 



THE soul's way OF LIFE. 89 

the courses of the stars, we have tracked the wild comet, 
and know the haunts thereof ! Away with your super- 
stition ; your awe ; your veneration ! Shall we venerate 
dust ? Worship blind, whirling forces ? Prostrate our- 
selves before a vast whirlwind of Nothing ? To what 
shall we pray ? Shall we address the atoms, as so many 
gods ? Shall we deify the stars, as did the ancients ? 
Shall we put Phoebus Apollo in the place of the Son of 
God ? How shall we find anything Intelligent in this 
blind, whirling mass ? Can the stars leave their fated 
courses to serve our needs ? Shall the horses of Fate be 
unhitched from the chariot of the world, and harnessed 
to our mortal chariots ? 

So scornfully speaks the skeptic, and goes on in his 
blind ways. God is dead; heaven a myth; prayer a 
vain babbling to Nothing ; worship, a relic of fear, which 
we are too brave to cherish. 

Hold, hold, thou hasty, foolish man ! When thou hast 
explained all things ; when thou hast measured the Illim- 
itable ; when thou hast found a plummet to sound the 
Unfathomable; when thou hast explored and bounded 
the Infinite ; when thou hast seized the scepter of Om- 
nipotence, and canst rule the stars in their orbit, and 
cause the wild, wandering comet to obey thee ; when 
thou hast seized Power ; when thou hast found Life, and 
canst give or take, create or destroy it ; when thou hast 
penetrated to the Source, found the Beginning, discov- 
ered the Reason of Creation ; when thou canst tell why 
one atom exists; why one impulse of Force throbs in 
the Universe ; when thou canst tell why the atoms 
cohere and mingle, and organize themselves into worlds 
and living forms; when thou knowest the purpose of 
Life, this illimitable, surging, mysterious Life, that 
throbs in every tiniest form, pulsates in plant and beast 
and bird and man ; this Life that throbs and glows and 
sparkles ; that sings and w^eeps ; that loves and aspires ; 



•90 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

that hopes and prays and worships ; — when thou canst 
tell what That is ; whence it is, why it is what its aim 
and purpose is, that it should bring forth and adorn 
worlds, clothing the hills with beauty, covering the plains 
with forests, filling the empty solitudes with joy and 
gladness; chanting forth its very joy of being in the 
song of birds, the hum of insects, and the poems and 
exultant prayers of Man ; when thou canst tell what 
That is, skeptic ; when thou canst answer but a single 
one of these questions of the Sphinx, then thou mayest 
proceed with thy conceited babbling, thy vain mocking, 
thy empty scorn of all Divine Mysteries. 

Go, fall prostrate before the first altar, or before the 
Unseen God, and pray that thy levity may be forgiven 
thee; that the God thou hast tempted and mocked 
strike thee not dead for thy folly and madness! Go, 
learn wisdom of the simplest child; for his questions 
will confute all thy learning. God hath verily chosen 
the weak things of this world to confound the wise. 
The merest fact defies thy wisdom, thou vain strut- 
ter and babbler in Nature's Temple! Thou hast not 
explained these things; thou hast only named them, 
and so with a name dismissed them ; and with a name 
cheated the soul in thee of Truth. So hast thou sold 
thy divine birthright for a poor mess of scientific (!) pot- 
tage ; and found thy heritage of truth and joy taken 
from thee. 



SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 



^>Kc 



LAW OF ASSOCIATION. 

With perfect good humor, I see that there is as little 
in common between many good people and myself as 
between myself and the inhabitants of Greenland and 
Patagonia. They do not love what I love, and so I can- 
not serve them. These laws of association are stern and 
inevitable. We cannot create, we can only obey. It is 
no fault of mine or of theirs that we find no profit or 
pleasure in each other; nor is it a fact at all to be 
lamented, so long as external relations do not presuppose 
such pleasure. Some say I should be more social, and 
make these people love me. But can I make positive 
attract positive, or negative negative? Can I make the 
blind man love beauty, or the deaf, music? They have 
no organs to apprehend what I would reveal. I have 
shouted at the top of my voice at these good souls, to 
convey my good-will, my universal love ; but never once 
have they heard my exclamations. They wait for me to 
come to them and make them my friends. They do not 
see that they are as unapproachable by me as if they were 
locked in a dungeon. I would fain come to them; I have 
earnestly striven to approach them ; but the walls are too 
thick, the locks too strong. I turn away, at length, and 
give over the attempt to break through barriers that God 
himself has built between us ; and I see at the same time 
that because I cannot reach them, they do not need me. 
I perceive that they are each to live his life, I mine; 

91 



92 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

in all neighborliness and kindness refraining from one 
another. 

The people I will go to see are not those whose bodies 
happen to be in my latitude and longitude, but those 
whose minds dwell in the same sphere with mine. I do 
not find it a bond of sympathy that another person is a 
citizen of the same town or city with me. I classify 
people by spiritual spheres, not by town boundaries. My 
fellow-citizen is not any Turk or Bushman of this village, 
not any gentleman or lord of this borough merely; but 
any soul, however stationed in life, wherever born and 
reared, whose mind dwells in the same sphere with mine. 
Plato and Socrates are my friends; the poor slave Epic- 
tetus. Emperor Aurelius, noble Seneca, are my neighbors ; 
the unknown Hindu sage, whose spirit shines vastly 
across dark centuries; the stern ascetic, dwelling apart 
from men, companioning with Truth; these are my good 
friends and neighbors of old time, whom I need not to go 
from my room to meet. They dwelt in other lands and 
times, but by the law of spiritual affinity they are my 
fellows. 

When shall we learn that our companions are repre- 
sentative of our various faculties? The faculties of my 
soul project themselves outwardly, and are reflected from 
various persons, whom I call my friends. The persons 
who do not reflect these faculties to me cannot by any 
possibility be my friends, but remain unknown, strangers 
and foreigners, though dwelling under my own roof. My 
love of Beauty links me to every known artist-prophet of 
that Divine Spirit; my love of Harmony makes me the 
lover of Mozart, Beethoven, Haydn, and other pipes of 
the spirit of spheral music. I am a prism, which breaks 
the Divine Light into a spectrum of myriad faculties and 
loves ; and each color is reflected by some persons, but not 
by others. Each soul is the center of Kosmos for itself, 
and all things, all persons, must take place secondary. 



SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 93 



SLAVERY AND UNION. 

After all our bloodshed in the cause of abolition of 
slaver}^, the fact remains that abolishing the institution 
did not abolish that trait in human nature which gave 
rise to the institution. The nature of the slaveholder is 
not changed by the act of taking away his slave. We 
may remove the slave from his house, his plantation; 
but until we have removed him from the country (yea, 
from the planet) where this slaveholder dwells, we have 
not taken him out of the reach of slavery. It is a poor 
achievement to merely knock the chains off a slave's 
limbs, if the chain-maker is to go on forging other chains. 
Slavery is not abolished until selfishness and sloth and 
cruelty are abolished. These exist not in the United 
States Constitution, nor in the Constitution of any state, 
but in the Constitution of Man, as at present organized. 
Who shall amend that Constitution, and make new 
by-laws, by which the others shall be annulled and made 
void? How shall such legislation be effected? Can any 
mere voting or passing of resolutions or enacting of 
statutes accomplish that ? 

What ! you say ; is it then'to no purpose that our brave 
millions suffered and died? Is freedom for the negroes 
then an illusion, and is Union, too, a dream, a vagary? 
Freedom for black men, or white men, my brother, is the 
right and privilege of honest labor at honest pay ; security 
of life and property ; freedom to think and speak and do 
the right ; freedom to grow and learn and become an in- 
telligent factor in a good and just Society. Have all black 
men or all white men these rights and privileges ? If not, 
Slavery is not yet abolished ; and the blood of our fathers 
was poured out for an end not yet consummated, but given 
in trust to us for its fu'lfillment. What is Union, and 
what does it mean to preserve it ? Is Union preserved 
when the secession of certain states is prevented ? Is 



94 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. 

Union the voluntary or involuntary submission of certain 
numbers of men to certain other numbers of men? No; 
Union is the free and vital co-operation of all men to- 
ward the same end. It is a fusion not merely of names 
or laws, but of interests and aims. What is the relation 
between the North and South to-day? between the East 
and West? between manufacturing and agricultural sec- 
tions? Answer me these questions, and I will tell you 
whether Union still survives. 

LOVE AND MONEY. 

I HAVE sometimes thought that it would be well to 
utterly renounce the use of money for a time, in order to 
appreciate its true use. It has come to be a thing in 
itself, instead of as at first a symbol of service rendered. 
I do my friend a service, and he hands me a piece of 
silver, stamped with certain figures. What is that to 
me? I want appreciation, gratitude, and a responsive 
benefit. You cannot pay me with silver alone. This 
silver has come between friends and brothers, so that they 
cannot see each other through it. We have built a wall 
with the stuff, through which friendship cannot pass. 
Suppose we should for a season abjure all money, and 
return to a natural exchange of benefits. Eor my friend 
the baker, I paint a picture. He bakes for me a loaf of 
bread. Into my picture I paint love, sympathy, service. 
Into his dough he kneads the same, and bakes it fast. 
The loaf comes to me then with another flavor than that 
of the oven. It savors of the heart, whose fires of friend- 
ship helped the oven-heat to bake it for me. This service 
is divine. Or, for my friend the boot-maker I make a 
coat. That garment I stitch with the thread of love. I 
put into it something warmer than its cotton lining, 
namely, a lining of friendship. When I give it to my 
friend, it warms his heart as well as his back. He makes 
for me a pair of boots. He thinks of souls as well as 
soles, and his art looks to healing as well as heeling. 



SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 95 

The end with him is not alone a waxed end, but an end 
of service. He gives me these boots, and wherever I 
walk, his love has covered the earth for me. This is a 
divine commerce, its laws the laws of love and service. 
But thrust a piece of silver between this picture and this 
bread, this coat and these boots, and the threads of 
friendship which bound the gifts together are broken. 
We forget that our business Avas to serve our brother, and 
we remember only the silver. Looking on its glitter, our 
eyes are so dazzled that we cannot see the things it 
represents; namely, service and friendship. When the 
spirit of love shall come into trade, all the abuses and 
wrongs of business shall disappear. But before this spirit 
of love can enter, business must be placed upon the basis 
of co-operation, instead of competition. We cannot 
expect love to subsist between masters and slaves. That 
can subsist only between brothers and equals. When the 
effort of employers is to pay the smallest possible sum 
for a stated service, the aim of employees will be to 
render the smallest possible service for the stated sum. 
Selfishness awakes selfishness, love awakes love, gener- 
osity awakes generosity. 

THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE STATE. 

As I live I find so many points on which the indi- 
vidual cannot with good conscience yield obedience to 
the State, that I am often sore perplexed to know 
Avhether T should allow this relationship of citizen and 
State to longer subsist between myself and my fellow- 
men. My brothers, I cannot do in all things as you do, 
as you Avould have me do. I see other laws, other rela- 
tions between man and the universe, than those which 
you see. You in good faith assemble together in solemn 
council and enact statutes that I shall do thus and so ; 
but I do not give my consent to these ; I have no voice 
in their enactment ; and why should I yield obedience to 



96 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

them ? Who made you masters over me ? No. I can- 
not always obey you. 

You will punish me, then ? Nay, you cannot do that, 
unless I will. You will take away my goods ? But I 
call nothing mine. All is God's ; and you cannot take 
away His from Him. You will cast me into prison ? 
Nay, you cannot do that, either. You may lock up this 
mortal flesh; these hundred and forty pounds of lime, 
sulphur, iron, potash, and the like, you may cast into a 
cell, and close the door upon them; but these are not 
me; you cannot shut me in that cell. I go whither I 
please. I have the freedom of the universe. 

You ask too much of me as the price of living with 
you under the same sky. Eemember, I am living under 
a higher Constitution than yours, and am bound by 
Laws which antedate your statutes. Before "Washing- 
ton, before Moses was. These were ; and I must respect 
Them, whatever becomes of my allegiance to yours. You 
willingly grant me the right to say these things, in 
abstract form, but when I begin to carry my statements 
into practice, you persecute me. 

If I object to your creeds, and declare allegiance to my 
own insight of the laws of the soul, you call me heretic. 

When I would vote, to aid some good public end, you 
demand of me that I shall assume certain obligations 
toward government ; that I shall engage to uphold the 
constitution, whatever iniquity it may now or sometime 
sanction ; and I cannot promise you these things. 

If I would be a citizen, and hold property, I must be 
and do so subject to your ever-changing moods. My 
estate is not safe ; my very reputation at the mercy of 
any wretch who chooses to summon me before a judge 
upon some ridiculous charge. You may arrest me at 
any time, and I must pay for the privilege of establish- 
ing my innocence, which should be clearly disproved, 
without annoyance to me, before you meddle with my 



SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 97 

freedom. And so, upon the whole, I am inclined to 
think that you charge too large a price for your whistle of 
citizenship, and I am moved to deny myself its purchase. 

But what shall we do ? asks some honest citizen, who 
would fain live at peace with God and all men. Shall 
we refuse to obey whatever law or custom seems wrong 
to us ? What if it is nje that are wrong ? And what 
will become of society, if its elements obey this centrifu- 
gal law, and fly apart in such chaotic fashion ? 

" We must live in the world," says one. " God put us 
here, and here we must somehow contrive to stay, along 
with our fellows." 

Yes, good brother, God indeed put thee here, but not 
to live after the fashion of some other creature. Never 
heed these doubts and fears, these weak questionings 
after results. With results thou hast positively nothing 
to do. Obey the law thou seest, and leave results to 
God. The world groans in travail with higher laws, 
striving to be born. Do thou perform thy part as good 
midwife to help them into light. Each man fears his 
neighbor, and cannot see that the neighbor but waits his 
example to take a stand for right and truth. We mutu- 
ally paralyze, instead of mutually helping, because each 
fears the other's opinion, not knowing that it is secretly 
the same as his own. A bold man, who fears not to 
plant himself on truth, quickly finds himself a teacher 
and leader of other men, simply because most men wait 
for some other to set the example, and are ready enough 
to follow as soon as some one is brave enough to lead. 
One man may thus reform a nation, by standing fast, 
and hesitating not to utter and perform whatever he per- 
ceives to be true and good. The first flash of a new 
truth across an earnest mind predicts a thunder-shock of 
reform in the society around it. 

Our standards of right are narrow and artificial. We 
would have every man do as we do ; that we call right. 



98 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

But for any other than ourself it might be not right, but 
very wrong. Nature cannot be trapped in any of our 
nets of artificial ethics. She will have her own broad 
way of life. She is diversified; we would cramp and 
narrow her to our own organic methods. Our codes of 
ethics are made from the individual point of view, not 
the universal; hence, they are inadequate. They may 
suit me, or you, but they cannot possibly tit the great 
order of Life, with its endless variety. No ethical pro- 
crustean bed can be made for the great scheme of life. 
Nature hath her own laws, and you or I shall not abridge 
them. 

Is this dangerous doctrine ? Do you fear its results 
■upon the sot, the sensualist? But these do not now 
obey your fine prohibitory ethics. Why fear that they 
shall find argument for what they now do without justi- 
fication of argument ? They are not anxious to justify 
their conduct to you or me. Do you think they care for 
your or my ideal standard? No. Their fault is not a 
wrong ethics, but a disregard of ethics. A wrong ethics, 
even, would help them, if in no other way than to set 
them thinking. The thoughtful man will not go far 
astray. 

Life is so large, so diversified, that we are constantly 
in danger of abridging it with our ethics and politics. 
Man is much larger than any social scheme. He cannot 
be treated like a pot-plant, and set to blossom finely for 
some Sunday-school Society. His roots will not go into 
your fine pot. They are sunk too deep in nature. If 
you cut them off, he withers. The damnation of man 
is not in any future hell. It is in this present wretched, 
tame, puny life that he lives in so-called civilized society. 
Where is the wild vigor, the broad action, the fearless 
soaring thought that should be his ? Tamed, tamed, and 
most miserably subdued ! Caged for centuries in Church, 
State, conventionalities of all kinds, his spirit, his wild 



SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 99 

freedom and life, are wholly suppressed. Wretched, 
black-frocked, solemn, humbled Man ! Awake ! Awake ! 
Let me give thee a taste of the blood of Truth, that thy 
wild, native strength and ferocity may return to thee ! 
Thou hast cowered and trembled and skulked in thy cage 
too long ! Thy jungle nature is not dead, but only sleep- 
ing ! Tremble no longer at the rod of thy Keeper ! He 
will flee from thee, when once thou hast shown thy teeth 
and claws, and convinced him that thou canst yet bite 
and tear ! 

Good, black-frocked pastors, solemn wigged and cloaked 
justices, may tremble at these cries of the soul, and dread 
that chaos will come again. But not so. Man is dan- 
gerous only when caged and chained. Freedom, freedom, 
is the mother of Good : the freedom which is the un- 
trammeled outflow of the whole nature of the soul. I 
fear only slavery, oppression. Man was not made to 
be dammed, nor damned. The stream of his life must 
flow freely, or it will burst its continents, and overflow 
the villages. Our law-making has set itself against the 
laws and constitution of nature. A conclave of solemn 
men — if indeed they be even solemn and sober — agree 
that what they wish is right and proper for all men : and 
straightway they decree that all men shall do thus and 
so. ^' By the grace of God, and the majesty of the State, 
be it enacted thus and so : — and woe unto him who dares 
overstep the bounds of action thus laid down. Let him 
be immured in a dungeon, or be hanged by the neck until 
dead ! " But my good fellows, so solemn in your own 
conceit, Avho gave you the keys of life and death ? Who 
gave you the Sword of Justice ? I ask for your creden- 
tials, when you thus pose as the agents of God. Let us 
have some sign, some miracle ! This rod which you hold 
out over Egypt, to expel the frogs and lice, let it bud 
and blossom, and we will believe in you. Alas ! You 
can show no divine credentials ! You are spies ! traitors ! 



100 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

You have stolen the seal of God, and you stamp your 
mortal decrees with the divine inscription. But you 
shall be exposed ! exposed ! 

There is no safety for the State in these blind decrees. 
Do you think the gallows has any terror for the man 
who has lost the fear of God ? It means nothing but 
death, and every man who goes to war faces that, every 
man who stays at home faces it. Death is not so terri- 
ble as you would have it believed. Your sturdy crimi- 
nal faces it as bravely as the pattern saint. The gallows 
is at best a scarecrow, which no cunning bird ever really 
fears. Execution to the criminal does not mean what it 
means to the sentimental Sunday-school miss, who brings 
her flowers and tears to the criminal's cell. To him, it 
has something of the martyr's fate about it ; and he 
knows that he will be respected among his pals in just 
the degree that he bears himself bravely and manlike 
at the hour of death. "Let us die like men," was the 
exclamation of one convict to his fellows, at a recent 
execution. Yes, even that brutal instrument could not 
force them to die like brutes. Do you think that such 
an attitude of bravery could fail to excite some admira- 
tion ? I doubt if the good men who condemned these 
criminals could have faced death so manfully. Do you 
think to repress men's natures in such ways as this? 
No. It cannot be done thus. 

But how shall we control our criminal classes, asks 
my anxious statesman. My dear brother, how does God 
control them? You do not know ? You think he does 
not control them? Ah! there is your fallacy. If the 
criminal has God on his side, beware how you meddle 
with him. You do not believe in God ? Oh ! Why did 
you not tell me that before ? So we are to accept you 
and your laws as a substitute for God and his justice ! 
Fine presumption, this ! Did you create man, my fine 
deity ? Did you order the foundation of the world, that 



SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 101 

it should not be removed forever? "Canst thou bind 
the sweet influences of the Pleiades, or loose the bands of 
Orion ? Canst thou lead forth Mazzaroth in his season? " 
Nay, leave me not in anger ! I would reason with thee. 

" Shall I submit to be robbed and murdered in the pub- 
lic highway, trusting God to protect me ? " 

Well questioned, my friend. You have found a spot 
to stand on, whence you may issue some decrees of public 
safety. I grant that if you do not wish to carry arms, 
you may delegate some certain guardsmen to carry them 
for you, to protect you against wild beasts, or wild men, 
that might threaten your life : for self-preservation is the 
first law of nature. It is the divine decree that you shall 
live. Tor this were you born. Faculties for self-protec- 
tion were given you. Self-protection is the first pro- 
vision which nature makes for individual life. The plant 
has thorns, the beast has teeth and claws, the bird has 
beak and talons. Every organism in nature hath a means 
of defence, to protect its life. And so shall Society arm 
itself, with spikes or clubs, against wild beasts of any 
sort. But with self-defence your law-making should end. 
You have no right to decree for any man defences against 
himself. His Maker will look to that. 

"But the interactions of individuals are endless, in 
society," say you : " and no man can hurt himself with- 
out also hurting others. To protect others, we must 
also protect him against himself." A specious argu- 
ment, good friend, fair to listen to : but what if you 
should carry it out ? Will you regulate the amount of 
my daily food, lest I acquire dyspepsia, and hurt my 
fellow-men with sour looks? Will you regulate my 
hours of sleep, lest I become irritable through insomnia, 
and afiiict my friends with peevishness ? Will you con- 
trol my very thoughts by statute laws, lest I utter angry 
Avords, and Avound the ears and hearts of my associates ? 
There are other daggers than those of steel. May I use 



102 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

the one, but not the other, free of legal consequence ? 
Where will you draw your line, my friend ? At what 
point will you cease to interfere with my free actions, 
on the plea that my fellows are involved ? 

Nay, nay, do not go. Listen. I shall not snatch away 
your wig of office, I shall not open the doors of the 
prisons. I shall not abolish the police, nor even the 
militia, for there are many wild beasts against whom we 
need to be defended. But I would have you put your 
glasses solemnly upon your nose, and with wrinkled 
brows read again your massive tomes of legal enactment. 
Kead them in the light of Truth, of Love; and see 
whether there is no other method than this of Repres- 
sion for dealing with the evils of Society. And while 
you are reading laboriously your recorded enactments 
I suggest that you read also the words of a certain 
teacher of the Hebrews, one Jesus by name, whose doc- 
trine of Love, more or less distorted by human igno- 
rance, you will find expounded in a certain ancient Book 
which, though it may not be found in your house, nor 
in the law or public library, may yet be had at most 
reputable book-shops. Read that also, and learn whether 
there be not a Justice which works from within the 
Soul, through Love ; a Justice which, once operative, 
would put to shame all your minute enactments ; build 
asylums in place of jails ; erect schools instead of scaf- 
folds ; and arm its ministers not with clubs and pistols, 
but with the sword of the Spirit, which is mighty to 
conquer, but mightier to save. 

This is the extent of my Anarchy: that you make 
the laws of God, instead of the laws of men, the safe- 
guard and defender of the State; that you trust Love 
instead of Hate to heal the wounds in the heart of 
mankind. 



SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 108 

LOVE AND LEGISLATIO:^/ 

When we have come to understand the power of Love, 
and have adopted that as our rule of government, we shall 
find legal enactments of all sorts disappearing very fast 
from our statute books. When we have learned this one 
truth, that a man can never be reformed from without, but 
only from within, we shall perceive the futility of many of 
our wretched laws, which aim to compel a man to virtue. 
You cannot force me to love beauty, or truth, or virtue, 
my zealous law-maker. Do you love the harmonies of 
Beethoven, my good man ? No ? Then I will shut you 
in jail on bread and water until you have learned to love 
them. Do you adore the sculptures of Phidias, the mas- 
terpieces of Angelo or Eax^hael ? Does your soul thrill 
at the sight of Divine Beauty shining forth through these 
works of the human hand ? No? You tolerate ugliness 
in your house, your furniture, your dress. That is very 
deplorable. You shall be reformed. Forty stripes per 
day shall be laid upon your bared back, till you have con- 
fessed your love of Beauty. We shall see whether you 
will longer defy the works of God, closing your heart to 
the pleading knock of the Spirit of Beauty. You shall 
no longer offend our eyes with your ugly house, your 
hideous-colored dress, your awkward manner and un- 
graceful speech. You shall become a worshiper, an 
adorer of Beauty, or your back shall smart for it. You 
are a rebellious and stiff-necked sinner. You are paying 
tribute to Chaos and the Devil of Discord. You shall 
bend the knee to the God of Kosmos, Beauty, or your leg- 
bones shall be broken. Bow, adore, worship ! You will 
not ? You cannot ? Eebel ! Away with him to the tor- 
ture ! Wrack his bones ! Scourge him ! We shall see 
whether such contumacy may go unpunished. Take heed, 
men, take heed, lest ye also come to this fate ! 

O my j)oor brother, thou canst never be thus led to the 



104 LIFE AND LIGHT FIIOM ABOVE. 

Shrine of Beauty. It lies far from that cell door which 
they have closed upon thee. Stripes and blows and cruel 
words can never open thine eyes to these divine visions. 
Let me come to thee. Let me take thee by the hand, 
and with gentle words entreat thee. Let me lead thee 
into green fields and beside still waters. Let me take 
away from before thine eyes the hard task which has 
been appointed thee. Thou art blinded, poor brother, 
by the dust of the shop and factory. The smoke of the 
forge comes between thine eyes and the sun, and thou 
hast not seen the beauty of God's universe. Let me be 
thy guide, thy friend and lover, to reveal to thee these 
things thou hast not seen. Then shall thy soul in thee 
begin to stir, and thou shalt feel new forces playing 
through thy being. The harp-strings of thy soul, so long 
untouched and silent, shall thrill to the touch of Beauty, 
and thou shalt begin to love the divine harmonies. 

That spirit shall clothe thy life in a new dress. House, 
furnishings, raiment, speech, actions, all shall be clothed 
in that Beauty which has thus dawned on thy soul. So 
shalt thou come to see and to love and to worship Beauty ; 
but not by the means thy fellows have taken to bring thee 
there. Men cannot reveal Beauty to thee ; but with open 
eyes and free glances thou shalt see it, and it shall compel 
thee to love and adore. 

Ah, but, says my good law-maker, that is esthetics. 
Ethics cannot be based upon such principles as you sug- 
gest. A man must do right. If he will not, he must be 
compelled. 

Hold, friend, what is Eight ? Is it of a different nature 
from Beauty ? Must not a man do right from the love 
of Eight, just as he manifests beauty from a perception 
and love of Beauty ? And can you inculcate Eight, more 
than Beauty, with stripes and wrackings ? Can you starve 
a man into the perception and love of Truth ? Will a 
blow on the back make the eye more sensible of Beauty, 



SOCIETY AND THE SOUL. 105 

or the mind of Truth ? Can a man see more Truth or 
Beauty through the gratings of a prison door ? Where 
lies the sensibility to Truth and Eight? Is it in the 
skill, that you can awake it with blows ? Is it not rather 
in the Soul, to be awakened by love ? 

Stubborn child, that will not see the rule of multipli- 
cation ! Beat him ! Make him stand in the corner till 
his wits are sharper ! Put a fool's-cap on his wooden 
skull ! Point the linger at him, as one incorrigible and 
perverse ! Is that your best and most effective mode of 
education ? Are you not ashamed of such a mode ? 

Ah ! that is not done now, you say. Whips and stools 
and fool's-caps have gone out of fashion in our modern 
school-room. Love is coming in at the front door, and 
the signs of force have gone out at the back. 

Well and good ; but how about the school-room for the 
larger pupils ; the school-room of the State ? Have the 
instruments of punishment gone out of that, too ? Alas, 
no! The scaffold stands, darkening the earth with its 
shadow. Dark, cold corners, guarded by armed men, wait 
for the dull pupil still. Lock him up, the rascal ; he will 
not do his sum. Pinch him, scourge him, set your faces 
against him, until his wits are quicker and his will more 
nimble to obey your commandments. And if these pun- 
ishments avail not, there is the scaffold. Let him at last 
hang on that by the neck until dead ; in the sight of the 
whole world, that other bad pupils may take warning at 
his fate ! 

Poor boy ! Born with addled and contrary wits ; reared 
by cruel masters, who had nothing but blows for thee ; 
thy life cut off from all helpful and refining influences ; 
thy mother's hand, perchance, the only one that ever 
touched thee in love, to wake thy better nature ! Poverty 
lashed thee with her whip, choked thee, chained thy 
spirit to cruel and darkening tasks. Thou camest into 
a world at war with thee from the beginning. At once 



106 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

when thou didst raise thy head in the world, the Giant 
Competition did seize thee, and how couldst thou wrestle 
wdth such as he ? Thou hadst no sling and stone of 
genius or wealth, with which to slay this Gath from afar. 
He crushed thee to the ground, again and again, until 
thou utterly beaten didst flee from him, to live as thou 
couldst. Whose sin is it, that thou art dull and fro ward ? 
That thy poor wits cannot solve the hard problems of 
life ? That thou canst not and will not perform the 
tasks thy school-masters have set thee ? Is it wholly 
thy sin ? If thou hadst been born of refined and culti- 
vated parents, and hadst been reared in the presence 
of Beauty, Truth, and Good, thine end might have been 
far different. But didst thou choose thy birthplace ? 
Didst thou select that hard environment ? Nay, nay. 
Whose sin is it, then, that hath brought thee to the 
felon's cell, or the black scaffold? I dare not answer. 
I fear it is my own. I hear a voice of dread asking me, 
'' Where is thy Brother ? Where is thy Brother ? " I 
dare not say I am not my Brother's keeper. Would I 
could say, I am not my Brother's jailer ! Would I could 
say, I am not my Brother's executioner! 

What is my purpose in these exclamations, these frantic 
pleadings, these hard accusations of myself and society ? 
What method have I to propose that shall be better than 
those now in use ? 

I propose no methods. I have no prescription for you, 
save only this : ^' Thou shalt love thy brother as thyself. 
Love suffereth long, and is kind. Love vaunteth not 
itself ; is not puffed up. And now abideth Faith, Hope, 
Love ; and the greatest of these is Love." 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. 



D><KC 



THE SOCIETY OF BOOKS. 

At last we shall find that our best society is not the 
people around us, but the people who have their being in 
books, art, architecture, music. We quickly weary of 
the gabble and nonsense of our neighbors. It is as the 
murmur of many waters, or as the rustle of forest leaves. 
But on my table lie Epictetus, Seneca, Plutarch, Aurelius, 
Buddha, Jesus, Shakespeare, Emerson, Thoreau, and a 
bright company of others, who, though dead, yet speak 
to me. In yonder pile of sheets the soul of Mozart, of 
Beethoven, of Wagner, lies incarnate ; ready upon a touch 
to fill my soul with the high harmony of their life. On 
my mantle, on my study walls, are pictures of the good 
and great, who speak to me out of their silent casements. 
The centuries have not silenced them, and they discourse 
with me of divine things. How shall I content myself 
with Dick and Harry, when I have such company as 
these ? Is a man's reality in his flesh, that I must see 
that, to know him ? Is it only in vocalities or gestural 
antics that a soul can express itself to me ? Is it the eye 
that measures the man, or the mind? Are not these typo- 
graphical signs as truly the speech of the man as are the 
vibrations of air that proceed from his lips and smite 
upon my ear ? Is not that image of him that comes on 
the wings of light from yonder frame as truly himself 
as the image of him thrown on the retina of my eye by 
light-rays from his body ? When I have learned that the 

107 



108 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

man himself is to be known only from the activities of 
his mind, and that these are organized into literature, 
art, music, I perceive that the presence or absence of his 
body makes but little difference, so far as a true associa- 
tion is concerned. 

I am sure that I am much better acquainted with 
Seneca than I am with my neighbor Jones ; that I know 
Beethoven far better than I know Smith, across the way, 
though I have met the latter frequently at the church 
supper. I am sure that I would far rather introduce my 
friend to Marcus Aurelius than to Brown the banker. 
You do not meet a prince every day. When I acquaint 
my young friend with Seneca, I am sure he will be in 
excellent company. "Harry, this is the noble Seneca; 
Seneca, my friend Harry. Now make the most of each 
other." 

But the society of the ball-room and dining-hall! 'Tis 
w^orst solitude for me. I stand and yawn, and wish I 
were out of it, and at home with my company of tried old 
friends; a cosmopolitan society indeed; Greek, Eoman, 
Hindu, Gaul, German, Briton, Yankee. 

People ask if I am not lonely in my study. They know 
that I go out little, and have few callers. But they do 
not know how many guests I have. 

These friends of mine are as quiet as a mouse when peo- 
ple call on me. They sit snugly in rows on ni}^ book-case 
shelf, and listen behind the curtains to the gossip of my 
caller, and doubtless wonder how I can tolerate so noisy 
^ visitor, and one whose noise is to so little purpose. 
And when my caller is gone, wondering how I manage to 
exist without much association with the likes of him, I 
turn again to my silent, wise friends, and in sweet com- 
munion with them I forget the noisy babble and gossip, 
and find rest to my soul. 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. 109 

TEUE PUBLICATION. 

I TRUST that I have been in no haste to publish what I 
have written. I would have it not of that sort which 
grows less valuable with age. I am no newsmonger, 
and need not to issue a daily bulletin, lest my message 
spoil in the keeping. It is not new matters, but very old 
matters, that I am interested in ; matters that were before 
the world was. These could wait a century or two longer 
for publication if need be. With them, a thousand years 
is as a day. 

It is only those things which can ignore time that are 
immortal. The thing that must be published to-day, is 
forgotten to-morrow. That which can wait a century 
will command the centuries. And yet, no written thing 
can have immortality. Plato has survived the tooth 
of time these many centuries; Homer is still fresh and 
young as when the Greek ships spread their sails upon 
the main; but let us not be deceived. Time is only play- 
ing with the world and all things therein. Already the 
burial shroud is waiting, in which the world is to be 
wrapped for its last sleep. The day is coming when the 
moth shall consume these fine parchments, and rust shall 
destroy these gaily hummiug presses that are so heedlessly 
publishing the thoughts and fancies of men. 

Publication is not immortality for any book. There 
is no publisher who can furnish that. But there is a 
mode of publishing which can make my thought immortal. 
Let me publish my thoughts in Character, and they shall 
look on the wreck of worlds unmoved. That is a book 
which no moth can eat, no decay overcome. 

Ah! This Book of Life, wherein our thougnts and 
fancies lie inscribed ! That Book no publisher has ever 
yet got into his catalogue ; no petty critics ever were able 
to destroy. That Book, published out of the Divine Life, 
read of all discerning men, subject to the review of a 



110 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

divine Conscience, shall be placed in the Universal Li- 
brary of Souls. Only so much of my Thought as I can 
publish in that Book, only so much as is taken into my 
organic life and the organic life of other men, can be 
immortal. 

BOOKS AKD BOOKS. 

Where is to end this vast production of books? Like 
weeds in a neglected garden, like thistles in an old field, 
everywhere are springing up books, books, books. In a 
great flood this stream is poured out upon the world, 
sweeping all things before it. Our public libraries do 
groan, being burdened with vast numbers of new books. 
We are so prolific, so fruitful, say the critics. Nay; so 
weedy, so leafy, say I, and so destitute of any solid 
fruit. The generous donations of wealthy philanthropists 
scarcely serve to purchase for our x>ublic libraries the 
new books poured out every month by the prolific Press. 
Already we have a Keview of Keviews, a Digest of Public 
Prints, a Bulletin of Books, to give us in brief form the 
contents of magazines, papers, and new books. Soon we 
shall need a Bulletin of Bulletins, to know what Bulletin 
we want; a Digest of Digests, to know what Digest we 
desire ; and I fear the end of all this Digesting will be 
a sad state of Indigestion ; a chronic sickness of books, 
resulting in an utter loathing of all intellectual food. 

We have played the intellectual gormand till we are 
like to be in the strait of the Eoman epicure who offered 
a great reward for a new pleasure. We shall be at last 
advertising for one new and readable book. Already the 
public stomach, utterly weary with its vast and unremit- 
ting labors, needs to be stimulated and spiced and sauced 
with all manner of literary condiments. The readers of 
our daily prints need to be decoyed by flaming headlines, 
into reading the matter beneath. Our "popular " maga- 
zines advertise the authors of their stories and articles 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. Ill 

more loudly than the contributions themselves. The great 
Doctor Jones has a contribution in this number ! Before 
we know it^ we are trai^pecl into reading the article, only 
to learn that the name so trumpeted was the only valu- 
able portion of the contribution. He has done some- 
thing, sometime, really worth hearing of, said something 
really worth saying; and now we are listening to his 
thoughtless clamor in the vain hope of hearing another 
sensible utterance. But he has had his say, and should 
relapse into Silence, not continue to afflict us with his 
reputation. 

But all this will end, sometime. Sometime we shall 
weary of these futile clamors, and turn again to the rich 
old Books that have survived the wrecks of Time. Plato, 
Homer, Seneca, Epictetus, Aurelius, Plutarch, the sacred 
Books of the East, the few real Books written in later 
times, — these shall again have our attention, and we shall 
apologize to these Serene Presences for our neglect of 
them in the midst of the clamoring babble of lesser men. 

There is no education, but only irritation, in the read- 
ing of most modern books. The boy of fifty years ago, 
who by the light of a log fire drank in the thoughts of 
three or four good Books (borrowed perhaps from a 
neighbor), got more real benefit from them than our 
young men do from the numberless trivial books they find 
in public libraries and reading-rooms. 

OBSCENE BOOKS. 

We have Societies for the Suppression of Vice; we 
should have Societies for the Suppression of Books. Some 
have been very active in suppressing so-called obscene 
books. Perhaps these obscene books are no more harm- 
ful than the greater number of books published: and 
quite possibly some of them would be far more profitable 
reading for any person. What book is obscene? That 
which leaves me in my filthiness ; which does not lift me 



112 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

above the dirt in which I daily delve and dig. If /were 
not obscene no book could make me so ; and it* is the book 
which finds me and leaves me so that is really obscene, 
and worthy to be suppressed. 

SELF IN LITERATUEE. 

Inasmuch as all a man's writing is a transcript of his 
own life, why not at once establish literature upon that 
basis ? What is history ? Is it not the impression made 
upon individuals by public events ? Carlyle writes a 
history of the French Revolution. But when we have 
read it, we find it a history of Carlyle' s revolutions. It 
is a transcript of the battles, struggles, hopes, fears, of 
Thomas Carlyle. 

Here is a volume of essays entitled Representative 
Men. Mr. Emerson has told us what he thinks of Shake- 
speare, Goethe, Swedenborg, Montaigne, Plato, Bonaparte. 
But we perceive that these names are representative in 
more senses than one. At length we discover that Emer- 
son is the man they represent. Montaigne is the skep- 
ticism of Emerson ; Plato, his idealism. And so does 
literature at last become representative of the men who 
make it. It is in vain that we try to conceal ourselves 
behind some historic figure. We put on the mask of 
Csesar, and think we shall be mistaken for that heroic 
Roman ; but the keen-eyed reader sees through our thin 
disguise, and discovers that our Csesar is a myth. 

It seems to me that we should recognize this fact at 
once in our writing and cease this dodging about behind 
other men. Let me tell my story. To speak accurately, 
I do not know anything of this Caesar, Plato, Sweden- 
borg. They are simply to me mirrors in which I see my 
own face reflected. Why should I describe that face in 
the glass,' in its various phases, as Caesar, Plato, Sweden- 
borg? 

I think that honest confession is good for the soul; 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. 113 

good for my soul and for thine. Do not think me free 
of egotism when I talk of somewhat else than myself. 
It is the same self speaking, whether I call it Plato or 
another name. Do not imagine that I offend your egotism 
more by thus entertaining you with my affairs. Be- 
lieve me, you read nothing but your own affairs. What 
I say of Plato, or of myself, or of any other wise or 
foolish man, I say of you if I say it to you. Believe me, 
friend, you can see nothing but yourself. You look at 
Plato, and see — yourself. You listen to Cicero, and 
hear — the echo of your own words. Whether I write of 
one or of another, I write of you, or you do not read me. 
You, as well as I, can find naught else than Self, in litera- 
ture or life. Why, then, shall I not write of myself, 
and set you reading of yourself ? Trust me, good friend, 
you are at last interested in nothing else. 



THE STUDY OF SELF. 

When we are told we must read history, I say, yes, 
but why ? 

0, that you may know what men did long ago. 

But men are doing the same to-day. 

Well, then, read the history of to-day. 

Why? 

To learn what other men are doing. 

But other men are doing very much what I am doing ; 
and at any rate I can interpret their actions only by my 
own. Then I will study my own. 

But do you not care what other men do ? 

Yes, it is because I care that I study myself; for I 
perceive that only through understanding myself can I 
understand them. The cruelty of Kero is unintelligible 
to me save through my own cruelty. The virtue and 
love of Christ is unknown to me save through my own. 
Christ owes his reputation to the divinity of men, So 



114 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

far as they are divine they apprehend his divinity ; no 
further. 

Would you then reduce all study to the study of Self ? 

There is no other study. I did not ordain it so. I 
merely announce the fact. 

But do you interpret action in the same way ? Is 
there no action save upon the Self ? 

Only the Self can act upon the Self. You touch me 
only through myself, and I you. 

But you have not answered my question. Will you 
cease to talk to others, to act upon them ? 

I cannot talk to others, I will only speak. Others may 
hear, but they hear themselves, not me. 

But do they not hear somewhat not themselves ? How 
else do they grow ? 

They grow by activity of themselves. That which 
acts, grows. 

But when you speak to them do you not stimulate 
them to act ? 

I supply an object for them to act upon. They can- 
not refrain from acting upon something. They are 
organized Activity. 

But you furnish them a somewhat better to act upon 
than they else would have had. 

What they love they will find. If they entertain me, 
it is because they love what I represent. If I do not rep- 
resent it to them, they will seek and find it elsewhere. 

But should a man then sit still, because he cannot act 
upon another than himself ? 

No; for man acts upon himself only by indirection; 
by acting as upon somewhat not himself. 

Is philanthropy then in vain ? 

Nothing is in vain. Philanthropy achieves its ends, 
or better ones, by unknown methods. 

When I contemplate the vast accumulation of books in 
our public libraries, I say to myself. How shall a man 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. 115 

read all this ? And if not all, how much shall he 
attempt ? Is there any criterion ? Take history : what 
shall I read ? That of the greatest countries ? But 
what is greatness ? And have not all countries been 
great ? Or why should Kome furnish me with more 
profitable reading than the history of the Sioux Indians ? 
Caesar took provinces, Sitting Bull took scalps; but it 
was one ambition that moved both. 

Or is it philosophy? Then why are the opinions of 
Plato more important than those of some wild man who 
knows nothing of the schools ? Shall I get anything 
from either but what I bring ? Can Plato give me his 
experience any more than the wild man his ? 

How many nations are buried in oblivion ? And if I 
can get on without the history of these, why may I not 
do as well without the history of others ? Why is France 
or England so much more important than Patagonia or 
Kew Zealand ? Is it because the professors of history 
say so ? But possibly their judgment is not correct. It 
may be biased. Let us look these things straight in the 
face, brothers. While we are doing homage to Plato, 
let us remember that he did homage to no one. We 
think we must read the standard authors. Why ? Be- 
cause they are standard ? But what is this " standard " ? 
We find often that the writer most read by us was him- 
self no reader. We quote most those who never quoted. 
AVe worship most those who worshiped no man. Is 
there not a significant hint in all this ? 

Our thirst for scholarship is insatiable, but is it wholly 
commendable ? Is there not, after all, something better 
than scholarship ? What is scholarship but an acquain- 
tance with what other men have done ? Is it not better 
to do somewhat ourself ? To get acquainted with our 
own personality and possibilities ? 

This history — what is it but a record of human life ? 
And is not our own life sufficiently interesting and im- 



116 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. 

portant ? Why should I neglect my own experience to 
read that of Caesar or some other ? I am the race in 
epitome. In me is a world, full of conquest and defeat, 
full of philosophy and art. All that I can find in any 
book I can find in my own soul. Here lies the world, as 
it lay before Plato and Jesus. It is my world, not theirs. 
They did not exhaust its soil. There is a plenty of nour- 
ishment for me. I will sink my roots deep down into 
its old soil, and draw therefrom the elements I need for 
my unfoldment. I will cease to mourn that I have not 
time or strength to read the vast accumulation of books 
that burden the shelves of libraries. These old grave- 
clothes of the world's genius, — why should I drag them 
forth from their sepulcher, and shake out of them the 
dust and mold of centuries, and put them upon my own 
limbs ? 

RHETORICAL AUTHORITY. 

Speech existed before Grammar ; the body before 
Anatomy : and speech was correct, body healthful. What 
have we done that we must needs study Grammar and 
Anatomy ? Let us find what we have done, to render 
these studies necessary, and undo that. We can never 
reach good speech or good health otherwise. 

You say a certain expression is not right. I must say 
thus, instead of so. But why ? You say the Grammar 
so states it ? But what is the Grammar ? The record 
and analysis of Speech, as it is found in the most culti- 
vated. But who are the cultivated ? They who have 
been taught to speak by this same Grammar ! So you 
go in a circle, and do not bring me the Authority I ask 
for. I would know why one phrase is correct, another 
incorrect. Is it because a majority so decide it ? A 
^ninority ? Because we so received it ? 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. 117 

LITEEATUEE AND ACTION. 

The literature that does not bear direct fruit in action 
is worse than poison to the mind. With the true writer, 
the pen is a sword, with which to stab to the death mere 
books and literature. Have at them ! Kun them through ! 
Let out that thin pale stuff that passes for blood in them ! 
They shall no longer crowd and jostle us in this busy 
Avorld. Troops of pale ghosts ; goblins damned ; specters 
unearthly, lurid with false fires ; fiends of the pit, escaped 
to pollute our vital air ; back, back to your dark aud sul- 
phurous haunts ! back to your night-caverns, your dream- 
haunted halls of inferno ! Cast no longer your shadows 
on the fair world. Make way for Action. 

BOOKS AND NATURE. 

The fields and woods are my best library and study. 
In the multitude of ^Drinted books I am confused, and my 
brain whirls with the press of matter. Such a mass of 
rubbish have men left behind them to encumber the 
world ! The shelves of our public libraries groan, being 
burdened with the weight of so much vain learning. 
History, recording the events of nations; the vain ex- 
ploits of kings and conquerors, over whom grim Time 
long ago piled the soil of oblivion ; narrating the hopes 
and achievements of petty heroes, whose lives flashed out 
against the black midnight sky of eternity for an instant 
and were gone, — swallowed up of night and darkness ; 
the pomp of great cities, the splendor of royal courts, 
the majesty of war, the triumphs, victories, spoils, the 
intrigues, plots, assassinations, revolutions, the growth of 
empires and their decay : all these lie recorded in books, 
which burden our libraries and appall the timid reader 
with the vast mass of their learning. But what, after 
all, signifies this great accumulation of human records ? 
We are here to live in the present, not in the past. These 
men and times are gone. History hath its lesson, but the 



118 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. 

present is our chief instructor. Experience, Experience, 
cries the soul ! that is my school ; for that came I into 
the world. Books, books, books ; words, words, words ; 
until the weary brain throbs and aches with the multi- 
tude of counsel ! Verily, of making many books there is 
no end, and much study is a weariness to the flesh. The 
true lo\rer of his fellow-men will not increase this burden 
of knowledge by any frivolous additions. 

Few books are worth the study of an earnest, sincere 
soul. Most books are written frivolously, out of the mere 
surface of life, and have no value to the earnest man. 
A shrub, a flower, a tree, a mere blade of grass, holds me 
as by a spell ; and from these voices of God in nature I 
receive blessed truth. But books are vitiated thought. 
A man has mixed his personality with pure truth, and 
offers me of that cup to drink. I wish my wine pure 
from the cup of nature. 

Every man's best instruction comes from life. Books 
at best do but awake the echoes of experience ; and who 
would not rather hear the new and original Voice than any 
however skillfully awakened echoes ? 

Nature is the dictionary to which we must go for the 
true meanings of our words. The poet sings of the 
murmur of the brook. What does Webster's Unabridged 
tell us of the meaning of that word ^'murmur." Nothing 
at all, unless we already know ; and then we do not need 
Webster to tell us. We must go to God's Unabridged if 
we would know what words mean. The poet's vocabulary 
is found in the Book of Nature. He who uses a word 
which he does not find in that Book, takes the word in 
vain. Men borrow words, and use them without having 
proved them. 

THE PERSONAL AND THE UNIVERSAL. 

FRIEND, shall we mourn that we seem to have be- 
come to each other a dim reminiscence ; a floating vapor 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. 119 

on the far horizon ; a" bit of scud or foam ; anything but 
substantial Persons, between whom any sort of human 
intercourse is possible ? Is it not the sign of an ever- 
encroaching, infinite Somewhat, which is slowly but fatally 
engulfing this blatant Personality, which would obtrude 
upon its friends its whims and caprice, its colics and 
rheumatism ? When you can write to me and the stars 
at the same time, do so ; I will gladly pay the postage on 
your letter. But wait not for the Personal to utter itself. 
I am not interested in your affairs. I trust you are not 
in mine. But whatever of universal Truth shall emanate 
from you, I claim that for myself, and demand that you 
shall give it me. Your observations of the stars ; your 
deep-sea soundings and dredgings ; your visions and heard 
oracles ; these I am interested in. 

To publish and disseminate Thoughts is the highest 
use of railroads and postal systems. For mere gossip 
and chatter the post-boy is too swift. Commit these to 
snails and tortoises. Such messengers will arrive too 
soon. But lightnings from the skies are not swift enough 
couriers for Thoughts. 

LITERATURE AND THE SOUL. 

My scorn of mere " literature " is a thing too deep for 
words. The bells and trumpery, the frills and furbelows, 
the gewgaws and gimcracks of the " writer's art " I do 
most deeply abhor and imprecate. Write ? Is it enough 
that I should seize pen and paper, and in a wild frenzy 
fill page after page Avith mere hieroglyphics ? 

To what end does "literature " exist ? Is it an end in 
itself, so that mere penmanship is the sole condition of 
success ? Or is it merely a medium, a channel, through 
which a rich soul may pour its riches or a poor soul its 
poverty ? 

Not until we perceive that literature is merel}^ a con- 
venient means of intercommunication for minds shall we 



120 LIFE AND LIGHT mOM ABOVE. 

arrive at any true criterion for criticism. " Literary criti- 
cism ? " There can be no such thing, as commonly under- 
stood. True criticism is an examination of the contents 
of literature, not of the literature itself. What is the 
man saying ? What is his revelation ? Is it some deep 
secret of his inmost life, some truth fetched up like a 
pearl from the ocean-deeps of his being? Not mere 
scum and froth, mere debris and driftwood of the sur- 
face, but pure gems from the deepest and darkest caves, 
to which he, regardless of pains and terrors, has dived in 
search of them ; these, and these only, can content us. 

Books for the most part are mere botanical collections 
of dried and pressed flowers. A book should be a living 
garden, fragrant with thought. Let me cut off my right 
hand sooner than allow it to offend the Most High with 
vain and frivolous scribbling. For every foolish word 
written let me receive ten strokes upon the palm with a 
ferrule, in the fashion of school-room discipline. So 
shall I learn discretion in the use of the pen, and offend 
no longer the souls of my readers. 

Who is worthy to wear the writer's garland ? He who 
submits himself to the Most High, as amanuensis for His 
Revelations ; he who, in devoutness of soul, lifts up his 
eyes to the heavens, and writes as he is moved by the 
Holy Spirit. Thank God for one Book in our prolific 
English tongue which at least claims to have been pro- 
duced by men who wrote as they were moved by the Holy 
Ghost, and spake as the Spirit gave them utterance. Sin- 
cerity, downright honesty, deadly earnestness, terrible and 
awe-inspiring conviction must characterize the Book which 
we admit as inspired of God. No trifler, no babbler, no 
gossiper, no jingler, ever yet achieved a place in the hearts 
of men. We laugh, we admire, we commend, we even buy 
the book which Vanity has produced ; but we do not wor- 
ship it, we do not love it. It sweeps by in the procession 
of Things, in the current of Driftwood, in the stream of 



LITER ATUKE AND LIFE. 121 

Appearances which make up the sensations of life ; but 
it does not enter into us, it does not become of us, to par- 
take of our own immortality. 

The least admixture of self-interest in a man's motive 
will spoil his inspiration. Let him take one thought for 
his reward, and the vital link is broken between him and 
the Spirit that gives him Truth. The gleam of gold will 
blind the finest eye to the vision of truth. The eye must 
be single, in order that the whole being may be full of 
light. 

The least of subjects may be viewed in such a relation 
that Universal Wisdom will inspire the soul to deal with 
it. It is not a fine subject that can make a fine writer. 
We seek for the secret of success in this or that writer. 
We think it was a fortunate subject, a conspiring circum- 
stance, a chance event, that gave him his place among the 
Immortals. But not so. If the man be great, his dis- 
course will be wise, whatever his subject. The magic 
wand of true wisdom can transform the least of things 
into somewhat divinely beautiful. A scientist can make 
a grain of sand seem as wondrous as a star. The greatest 
ever shines within the least. The eye that is open to 
universal truth perceives a world in every smallest atom. 
So far as I have the mind of God I make divinely beauti- 
ful whatever I touch. Be it stick or stone, hut or temple, 
ant-hill or nation of men, my subject glows in the light 
of divine wisdom, and seems the greatest thing on earth. 

Not fine subjects, then, or great occasions, should en- 
gage the attention of the writer ; but his aim should be 
to lift himself daily higher in that atmosphere of Divine 
Light where Truth has her habitation. As he lifts him- 
self above the illusions of the world, into the realm of 
eternal Verity, he becomes a Eevelator to his fellows ; 
and the Book which he writes will take its place among 
the Holy Scriptures of the world, revered by all good 
souls. 



122 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

I do not contend that Literature should have but one 
form, the Prophetic. The utterance of pure Truth, in 
oracular form, is the prophet's office; and of such the 
highest literatures, the Sacred Books of the world, are 
chiefly composed. But there may be many works in the 
same spirit. Eomance, drama, poem, novel, oration, 
biography, history, all may be in the spirit of Reve- 
lation. 'Tis not the form, but the spirit, that determines 
the character of a book. The parables of Jesus, the 
fables of ^sop, the passion plays of the middle ages, 
" Pilgrim's Progress," More's " Utopia," are examples of 
different forms of literature which serve one end, the 
moral elevation of mankind. The age of romance for its 
own sake has doubtless passed. The coming literature 
will be the literature of the Soul ; in all its various forms 
serving faithfully but one end, the spiritual elevation of 
Man. It will be as various as the many-sided nature of 
the race ; no cold, ascetic production, no Puritanical Sun- 
day-school tales, no bald exhortation to virtue ; but a full, 
rich stream of human life, dyed with humanity's purest 
thoughts and feelings ; relating every phase of life and 
conduct to that great Eternal Life which is the true life 
of the soul. 

ORIGINALITY IN WRITING. 

The use of the new writer is that he presents the old 
truth in a new dress, in which some few men will recog- 
nize it as their own who did not so before. If any writer 
imagine that he can add a single new truth to the stock 
of human wisdom, he is of all men most miserable ; for 
disappointment and discouragement await him upon the 
very threshold of the temple of learning. But if he say 
at the outset with Solomon that there is no new thing 
under the sun ; that the thing which hath been said is 
the thing that will be said ; there is a place for him ; he 
writes not as they that have no hope. 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. 123 

I am not ambitious to deliver some new and startling 
message to the world. If a man's message is startling, 
be sure it is not true ; for the true things have all been 
said, and in many ways ; though not all heard. I sus- 
pect your promising writer. I fear his promise will 
never be kept. But the man who Avrites quietly, know- 
ing that he is but re-echoing sentiments as ancient as the 
sun, he will at last be heard ; for we do all love truth 
uttered in the voice of a living man, a man of our own 
land and age. 

Why does Nature continue to send men into the 
world ? Man after man, — the procession is endless ; 
and all the same, some cynic might say : all wearing the 
same form, all grinning in the same mask, a most dreary, 
monotonous procession. Each man steps in the tracks of 
his predecessor, and keeps time to the same tune. Here 
and there one thrusts out a leg or an arm, to attract some 
attention to himself, as not one of this dreary mass ; but 
so he does not distinguish himself, except for oddity. 

The true sage, looking around and seeing that all the 
creatures in this long procession wear the same form, 
and that if they were to exchange clothes, or alter the 
cut of their beards, they would be effectually disguised 
and confounded with each other, knows that to seek dis- 
tinction by any originality of dress or manner is beyond 
the possible. He concludes to acquiesce in this monotony 
and uniformity of things, content to do Avhat other men 
have done, and done perchance far better than himself. 

But behold ! He suddenly finds that by acquiescing in 
conformity he has become distinctive and peculiar; he 
has made the unique declaration that all men declare 
alike ; the discovery that no one man can discover any- 
thing ; and by seeking to hide himself in the mass, has 
become the most conspicuous figure in it. So do all 
things work by indirection; and the way to a thing 
is the path away from it. 



124 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

FEELING IN LITEEATUKE. 

A MAN must betray some interest in his writing, or it 
has no charm for others. A man came to Demosthenes 
and told him in tame tones of a grievance which he 
wished to have redressed at law by the great orator. 
Demosthenes listened, and at the end replied, " I do not 
believe that you have suffered any grievance.'' There- 
upon the client flew into a passion, and enlarged upon 
his wrong so eloquently that Demosthenes took the case. 
Unless you feel your message, my good writer, do not 
come to the public with it. Do not imagine that the 
public will be moved by anything that fails to stir 
your soul. Come to me frothing at the mouth, like Car- 
lyle, or like Mohammed, and I will believe that you have 
in good truth seen some visions. Emerson is profound. 
He has depths like the sea, and heights like the Hima- 
layas, and his soul lies vast abroad on the world, touch- 
ing every phase of feeling; but I miss in him the pro- 
phetic scream, the vital cry of the prophet. Carlyle, on 
the contrary, is forever tearing out large handfuls of his 
hair, and casting it to the winds, and you can see the 
foam fly from his mouth as he pours forth the stream of 
his inspired eloquence. You can easily believe that he 
has seen somewhat awful and fatal ; that out of high 
heaven a light has flamed forth and smitten him with a 
divine ecstasy ; that he has come with the very trumpet 
of the archangel in his hand, to wake a dead world with 
its penetrating blast. I imagine that the reason Emer- 
son was not given this great trumpet to blow is that his 
lungs are not strong enough. The girth of his chest is 
not sufficient to make him a trumpeter of the gods. He 
glows with a heavenly lire, the flame of divine wisdom 
burns on his fine brow, and he casts a celestial radiance 
wherever he goes. His office is not to wake the dead, 
but to cheer and warm the living. Carlyle is sent to 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. 125 

stand before sepulchers, and to cry out to the entombed, 
" Come forth, ye dead ; wake to real life, shake off your 
cerements, and stand forth ! '' 

Emerson will make a fine guide, to show you through 
the celestial kingdom. But like all other guides^ he will 
not burn with enthusiasm ; he has seen all this so often, 
that it is an old story to him. He is at home with the 
inhabitants, and can speak their language. He can show 
you the best the place affords. But you must come 
with your own enthusiasm. You must be eager to see 
the place. 

" Carlyle goes with you to take the kingdom of heaven 
by violence. He will bring down the walls with his 
trumpet blasts, as did the Hebrews of old. He cries, 
" Not peace, but a sword ! " He carries a fine blade, too, 
and woe to him who^eels its stroke. 

THOBEAU. 

Thoreau, my Bird of Paradise, caged among hens ! I 
cannot choose but love my wild-bird better than any cock 
of the civilized walk. 

What a man he was ! An unique soul, falling on tame 
and insipid times ! A wild, fierce, untamable flame-spirit, 
shot out of the very fire-deeps of Infinity ! 

Thoreau has been called a fanatic because he refused 
on a certain occasion to pay his town tax. He did not 
approve of the use which was made of the money, and 
preferred to go to jail rather than pay what he consid- 
ered an unjust tax. But Thoreau was not the only man 
who ever refused to pay his tax. There were some few 
men over a century ago who refused to pay the tax de- 
manded of them. To be sure, it was a tea tax, instead 
of a town tax, but the objection was the same, and the 
principle the same. These men too were threatened with 
civil penalty, but they did not heed that. The British 
soldiers came to seize them and put them in jail, but they 



126 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

would not be seized. They seized muskets instead, 
and the soil of Thoreau's beloved Concord was baptized 
with the blood of some of these fanatics, who so stub- 
bornly resisted a taxation which they considered to be 
unjust. No, Thoreau is not the only fanatic in history, 
thank God. Every step in human progress has been 
made by some fanatic, who, if he had failed, might have 
been hung as a traitor or a murderer. When Socrates 
goes to jail, the jail becomes a shrine. When he drinks 
the cup of hemlock, it becomes a cup of life, filled to the 
brim with Olympian nectar. 

Thoreau's message seems to be that there is a celestial 
or divine Order to which man is native, and to whose Laws 
he should conform, without respect to earthly laws or cus- 
toms ; that his life is one with the universal Life whose 
manifestation Nature is, in all her myriad forms ; and that 
the more intimate his relation to wild and primal nature, 
the more fully he shall know his true being, his unity 
with the One Life. 

With Thoreau the study of nature is not an end, but a 
means. It is not the fact, but the significance of the fact, 
which holds him spellbound. Not the phenomenon, but 
the Law which it reveals, is the end of all his seeking ; 
and once perceiving the universal Law, through a partic- 
ular fact, he seeks to make that Law his own, through 
strict obedience. To him, every fact, every phenomenon, 
is as the falling apple to Newton, a revelation of Kosmic 
principles. Thus is Thoreau not a scientist, but a philos- 
opher ; using Nature chiefly as symbol and illustration in 
the teaching of ethical truth. It may be said that Nature 
is Thoreau's Bible, in which he finds all sacred Laws 
recorded ; and he, the Eevelator thereof, would make plain 
the ways of God to man. To him. Nature is the image of 
the soul. What Laws he finds within himself, through 
introspection, he forever sees written on the page of 
Nature. 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. 127 

Thoreau is forever the friend of all aspiring souls. 
The dim image on the far horizon of -the ideal, which 
other eyes are not sharp enough to see, he perceives with 
confident \dsion, and pictures it to men. He sings the 
song of the soul in myriad changes. That celestial music 
sounds in him above all noises of the world ; and he will 
close his ears to all Siren strains, to all mere music of 
the senses, that his soul may be enchanted by this music 
from on high. He will leave friend, lover, sweetheart, 
if they do not walk with him on this high Path which 
he has chosen. Alone, though lonely in heart, will he 
walk, rather than be the companion of the frivolous and 
the vain. The empty clatter of fools' voices, which is 
like the crackling of thorns under the pot, he will not 
heed ; but those divine Voices which whisper and speak 
and sing to him out of every form in wild Nature, these 
he will listen to, on bended knee, and cherish the echo 
of them as dearest treasures of the soul. His society is 
not on earth, but in his celestial Dream-land ; the men 
and women whom he meets are not the images of that 
Divine and Beautiful Humanity which, glorified, he sees 
in his dream-excursions to the land of the ideal. He is 
a stranger on the earth. He has learned its language, 
and will pass a word now and then with its inhabitants ; 
he will study their ways, sometimes in a fine scorn of 
their frivolity and vanity; he will give to such as are 
worthy a word of counsel, a word of hope and cheer; 
but he has no breath to waste in such conversation as 
the inhabitants of Concord and Boston are given to. 
He will meet you on the high plain of ideal life, where 
dreams are veriest truth, and the visions of the soul are 
the only reality ; but he will not descend to meet you. 
He finds himself stifled and oppressed in the thick at- 
mosphere of the earth, and continually ascends toward 
the ideal, where the mountain air is bracing and life- 
giving. Though his body is so perfectly adapted to 



128 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

earthly residence, with its cunning hands capable of 
wielding so many tools, with its senses so acute to detect 
things hidden from other men, still he impresses us as 
one not fitted to live upon this our common planet. He 
has so little use for the things which engage most men ; 
so little interest in that which absorbs and wholly occu- 
pies the other inhabitants, that one is moved to ask of 
him what is his business here, that he should move 
among us with so cheery a voice and manner. Surely 
it is no common business that keeps his hands and feet 
so active. He surveys lands for the farmers of Concord, 
but his feet are not treading the ground merely, but are 
walking on an earth invisible to his employers. He 
treads the clods and the clouds at the same time ; and 
while the farmer thinks that the surveyor is looking for 
his boundaries, the transit has run a line clean through 
this farm to the distant horizon, and found a stake there 
which no title-deed had ever mentioned. The North 
Star is a corner-stake for him ; and through the Milky 
Way and the constellation of the Great Bear this intrepid 
surveyor has carried his chain, marking out lines of 
higher life for man. That swamp which he so boldly 
wades, through which he runs his lines to solid ground 
beyond, is but a type or symbol to him of the uses and 
laws of men, through which the bold reformer must 
wade, to find a good foundation for better laws. He will 
not hesitate upon the bank, but will plunge boldly in, 
confident that he shall find solid bottom somewhere, 
though he have not got half way down to it yet. He 
knows that under all the institutions of men, deep be- 
neath constitutions and laws, churches and creeds, there 
is a Foundation not made with hands, but laid by Uni- 
versal Wisdom, before the world was ; and down to That 
will he dig, never heeding the dust which blinds other 
men's eyes, not caring for the cries of fear or rage that 
sound around him. He knows that other foundation can 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. • 129 

no man lay than That which is laid ; and down to That 
he must go, through whatever sacred soils or traditional 
strata of laws and usage. He is the friend of all deep 
diggers, too, and joins hands with all who seek to build 
upon the One Foundation. John Brown is his friend, 
who so boldly blasts away all constitutional barriers and 
shatters all rocks of human laws that he may get down 
to the bed-rock of Justice for black men and white. 
While yet that brave hero lies in Charlestown jail, insulted 
by southern slaveholders, and no man in all the north 
dares speak out boldly in his defense, this Man of Con- 
cord calls his neighbors and fellow-citizens together and 
speaks to them on the life and character of John Brown, 
uttering heroic praise of his noble but abortive effort to 
make head against the monster Slavery. 

PURE LITEEATUEE. 

It is not surprising that we have so little pure litera- 
ture in the world. We write with materials and on 
materials saturated with degradation. The ink is com- 
posed not alone of fluids and pigments. It is made up 
of human thought. The influences that surround each 
workman in the factory where it is brewed and bottled 
creep, by a subtler chemistry than that expounded in the 
books, into the fluid, and are corked up, like the fabled 
demons of old, to escape with the unstopping of the 
bottle. The pen I write with is tempered not only in the 
furnace fires, but in the hotter fires of thought and feel- 
ing. When I hold it in my hand, it has a power of its 
own to record its life-history ; and in spite of ni}^ opti- 
mism it will set down some hint of the conditions out of 
which it came. The spirit of trade, of greed and deceit, 
controls it partly, and however high and holy the Spirit 
that commands me, the writer, this pen which I hold will 
have a word now and then, dictated by this other and evil 
spirit. It seems to me that we might write some pure 



130 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

thoughts, if we could but get us pure materials. Per- 
chance a quill from some wild bird, whose wings have 
never fanned the polluted air of town or city; the juice 
of pokeberries, red with the life-blood of pure nature; 
and for paper, the bark of some tree — probably the 
original parchment — would enable one to write a poem 
of purity and truth such as the world has seldom seen 
or heard. 

INSPIRATION. 

All literature is inspired which lifts the mind into the 
realm of spiritual truth. It has the Spirit of God in 
itself when it makes me conscious of the Spirit of God in 
me. That scripture through which I see God is certainly 
inspired. If it lifts me out of Time, it belongs to Eter- 
nity. That doctrine is true through which I see Truth. 
When my soul is lifted up to commune with its Divine 
Self its utterances are inspired and true. When I speak 
out of this attitude of the soul I represent God; I am 
God Speaking. This is the Spirit of Prophecy, and there 
is no other. This is Revelation; all else is vain strife 
of words. 

THE BOOK OF LIEE. 

This day I renounce all idolatry of books and papers. 
I have wasted precious hours in this reveling, and have 
been fed only as with husks. I perceive that these vast 
promises of wisdom are never fulfilled. So many " prom- 
ising" writers, but so few that fulfill any promise! I 
have searched among the whirling leaves of our modern 
literature these many years, to find at last that the 
sought-for fruit lies not there, but hangs high aloft on 
the branches of the Tree of Life. No more will I befool 
my soul with these false expectations. I have gotten 
little profit, but much headache and debility from all this 
reading of books. To be sure, I have found some feAV real 
Books among the rubbish, which are good and profitable 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. 131 

for any man to read. But few men find these, they are 
so buried and concealed. 

I determine henceforth to be a New Man in a New 
World. Behind me I cast books, and go forth to study 
Life and the World. If I make a book of these my 
studies, it shall be a new sort of book, against most other 
books, calling on men to study that only true Book, Life. 

I perceive that I have been looking in the wrong direc- 
tion. I have neglected the Temple of God, to go about 
after wizards that peep and mutter. Now will I return 
to the Temple, and at the sacred shrine petition for Wis- 
dom. One Word from that source is worth all these 
spurious words which have filled my ears with their din 
and clamor. 

BOOKS AND CHAEACTEK. 

The world is full of books and echoes, but character is 
not so common. Is there not a method of converting this 
fine thinking into somewhat more permanent than essays 
and poems, art and eloquence? The world is full of 
writers, scribblers, who imagine that writing constitutes 
literature, and that literature is the chief end of man; 
that his highest bliss is to know it and enjoy it forever. 
Young men and women aim at a " literary " career, as if 
that were a tine employment alone worthy of their clever 
faculties. The end and use of writing they seem not 
to have apprehended in the least degree. Writing is a 
means, not an end. Make it an end in itself, and it at 
once becomes vicious. It is a medium for thought, love, 
beauty. We should aim to cultivate these qualities, and 
not be so anxious to write until we have something 
worthy to be uttered. 

that silence might fall upon the world for but one 
day, one hour even ! that we might hear the voice of God 
speaking to us. We are so noisy, so saucy, so clamorous ! 
All shouting at once, striving to be heard! A very Babel 



132 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. 

of voices, full of sound and fury, but signifying nothing ! 
The clamor of the crowd of would-be prophets makes but 
little impress upon eternal Silence. The face of the 
stern old Sphinx does not change, amid all these clamor- 
ous anwers to her Riddle. No man pronounces the proper 
Word. She looks on calmly, listens gravely to Plato, 
Buddha, Christ, and the rest; but utters still her Eiddle, 
unanswered and unanswerable. 

In the midst of this clamoring crowd the earnest man 
would fain withdraw apart, and pray in silence. Wise is 
he who knows the folly of all wisdom. The features of 
the Sphinx relax a little at the words of him who con- 
fesses the impossibility of an answer to her question. 
And yet, I babble with the rest, scribble with the rest; 
and my only virtue is the perception of our common folly. 
I know the folly of it all, but fain would utter this 
knowledge. If I write to show the folly of writing, I 
contradict myself. If I speak to prove that nothing can 
be proven by speaking, I prove my own insanity, and 
defeat my end in reaching it. There is some use in 
writing and speaking, but what it is I do not know; and 
I am convinced that the more cautiously we speak, the 
better. Every word should be ensphered in silence. 
Every utterance should have a background of mystery. 
We know nothing save that we can know nothing. I 
will not examine too curiously this impulse for writing 
and speaking, but I will obey it cautiously. What I am 
organized to do, that will I perform; but with all pos- 
sible discretion. Like other strong passions, this passion 
of speech must be cautiously indulged. Let it become 
master, it will debauch and ruin us. It exists for good 
and universal ends, but must not be indulged for its own 
sake merely. Severed from those universal ends, it 
becomes a vice, a crime, deadly and damnable. Vigor of 
mind is the fruit of chastity in speech. The strongest 
children are born of the greatest continence. Idiocy, 
insanity, are the fruits of dissipation. 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. 133 



AYEITING AND LIVING. 

The woods forever inspire me with tlie purest thoughts. 
When I walk there it seems to me that every tree is say- 
ing, " Write what thou seest ; write what thou seest ! " 
And yet, how poorly can anything felt be written! I 
read what I have set down, and ask myself, "Is that 
what the wood-nymph said to me ? Did my gentle sprite 
utter such nonsense as that ? " So impossible is it to set 
down anything adequately that I have a hundred times 
declared I would write no more. But woe unto me if I 
write not the Gospel which Life is teaching me. When 
my wits are dullest I seem to have the strongest impulse 
to write. Then I would fain woo thought, and coax some 
utterance from my good Genius to fill the vacuum in my 
brain with wisdom. 

But I feel ever as I write that there is some good end 
served, though I cannot find it. I know that somehow 
this Writing is the vestibule of Living; and that by 
spelling my a-b abs patiently I shall soon have them 
organized into character. I certainly have no ambition 
to excel merely in "writing." There is somewhat higher 
in life than intellectual performance. All my thinking, 
all my reading and writing, is to the end that I may the 
more truly Live. 

I would fain write my Gospel in one sentence, that all 
men might always have it in mind. But it will not be 
so condensed. I must write many profitless lines, spend 
words liberally, utter much foolish and vain speech, 
before it will get itself recorded. I bring forth in travail, 
and nurse my brain-children tenderly, hoping that one 
shall at last grow to a divine and perfect stature. But I 
wait still for the Divine Sentence, whose meaning shall 
saturate society with its light. I struggle, and lift up 
my voice in prophecy, and beat the air with my hands, 
.hoping against hope that so I shall pronounce the Excel- 



134 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

lent, Divine Sentence. And with the same hope do 
people listen to my ravings ; waiting for my madness and 
panting to shape itself into somewhat orderly and true. 
If there were not hopeful listeners, what should our 
hopeful speakers do ? If men were not forever listening 
for the secret of life, how should any babbler like myself 
be heard at all ? We know not how or when it may be 
uttered; in what shriek of frenzy or mad prophesying it 
may escape. And so we listen, and read books, and ques- 
tion our neighbors, and wait patiently, hoping yet to hear 
the Word. Men think the priest knows more than they, 
and so they go to him with their problems. He does 
know more, — he knows that he cannot answer them; but 
he wisely does not tell them so. Let them continue 
asking, and perchance sometime, somewhere, they shall 
be well answered. 

I think it is a growing sense of the limitations of all 
knowledge that has dampened my early ardor for writing. 
I find myself less eager than formerly to put my thoughts 
into words. Once I religiously opened my Journal every 
day, and wrote my thoughts therein ; and did well so to 
do, for so my pen learned to obey my brain. But as for 
anything of value being written, I might as well have 
traced my words in the sand, where the next shower 
should efface them. 

I have learned to be chary of committing myself to 
statements. I see so much that I know it can never be 
adequately said ; and I refrain from marring the beauti- 
ful vision by understatement. I love to let my thoughts 
float about me, looming up vastly in their undefined pro- 
portions. I love to feel them as an influence. If I write 
them down, I thus dismiss them. I prefer that they 
should brood over me, and impart their virtue to me, and 
become organized into my character. Then indeed they 
will be published, and in a completer and more effective 
fashion than in books. 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. 135 



lear:n^ing and ethics. 

Of what value is philosophy if it does not lead us to 
better modes of life? Our ambition is to know much, 
rather than to he much. We should cease from this ab- 
normal itching after knowledge, and set ourselves dili- 
gently to the work of applying what we know to our 
daily life. To live the life is the only way to really know 
the doctrine. I do not possess truth when I simply per- 
ceive it ; but only when it has become organic habit in 
me. I say that I know it is better to resist not evil ; but 
do I Icnow it until I do not resist ? The perception and 
understanding of truth is one thing ; the brave applica- 
tion of it to life is quite another. The one is intellect, 
the other is Character. In these days of intellectual 
activity we need to insist strenuously upon ethical life. 
We are learning so fast, and are immersed in such a vast 
sea of literature, and withal are so well pleased with our- 
selves in that we are so wise, that we need to have a halt 
called, to consider what kind of progress this is that we 
are making. 

Is a learned savage any better neighbor than an un- 
learned one ? I think the ignorant savage is less dan- 
gerous, at least. Your savages in New York and Chicago 
throw dynamite. The savage of the woods could not do 
that. A little learning is a dangerous thing, when severed 
from moral feeling. We educate our children that they 
may become good citizens, we say. The state spends 
millions of dollars annually in this free education, firmly 
believing that thereby she will ensure the rearing of good 
citizens. But education of the intellect apart from the 
moral sense is not sufficient. Some of these children use 
the spear of Minerva to pierce her side. Having learned 
chemistry at the expense of the state, they proceed forth- 
with to manufacture dynamite, with which to blow their 
alma mater into primordial atoms. 



136 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

EDUCATIOK 

Life is the only education. What are these mathe- 
matics and sciences, these grammars and dead languages, 
but agencies through which the Soul expresses her inner 
life ? We talk learnedly of science and philosophy, we 
measure the orbits of the stars, and weigh the sun and 
moon, and think that this is knowledge. The soul that 
has lived and suffered knows better than to believe this 
lie. It is not knowledge, but only the vain and empty 
shadow of it. Knowledge is experience ; — the garnered 
sheaves of love and hate, of joy and pain, the crop of the 
soul, warmed and lighted by the sunshine of joy, and 
watered by the rains of sorrow. Tares and wheat, 
weeds and flowers, all the plants that grow and blos- 
som, kissed by the light of the sun and moon and stars, 
breathed on by winds of morning and of night, all are 
the life-harvest of the soul. Knowledge — vain word 
used by owl-eyed scholastics, inscribed on the door posts 
of academies and colleges, to denote what is learned 
therein ! The young soul hastens thither, where knowl- 
edge is said to be attainable, and, after a few years, goes 
away with its precious burden of shadows. Only after 
some years of living, in the press of men, in the mad 
currents of the world, buffeted by wild waves of sorrow, 
engulfed and swallowed by maelstroms of grief, mocked 
at by specters, haunted by fiends and devils, alternately 
renouncing God and imploring his mercy; hating life 
and fearing death; tasting bitter fruit that all but 
poisons the s|)rings of hope; reaching out vainly for 
elusive things that fade as they are grasped ; so living, 
so suffering, so hoping and fearing, so praying and 
mocking, does the soul gain knowledge. All else is but 
a vain muttering and mumbling of words. But at what 
a cost, at what a cost, do we gain this wisdom ! Verily, 
the old Greek proverb was right : '^For a price,'' — yes, 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. 137 

for a price, and never for nothing. And is it worth the 
price ? Who knows ? Only He who knows the issues 
of life and death ; who holds the secrets and mysteries 
of being. 'Tis the aim and end of life, and to doubt its 
value is to accuse Life itself. 

Alas ! Poor souls that we are, learning the way of 
life by treading with bare and bleeding feet over flints 
and thorns. Must truth ever be born of pain and sor- 
row? Must the heavenward-struggling soul ever bear 
the cross upon his naked back and the thorns upon his 
brow ? Even so, if this be the price, let us have it. 
" Not my will, but thine, be done." What poor, naked, 
bleeding wretches, starved and worn, are these saviours 
of the world! How they write their gospel on the 
stones of the road, with the blood of their feet! My 
head aches with thinking, and my heart with feeling, — 
and yet there stands the Sphinx, unmoved and grim 
as ever. 

We do not ask what is rational, but what is proper to 
the opinions of our neighbors. Our education teaches 
us opinions, not the right use of opinions. It shows us 
what has been, or is, not what ought to be; what men 
have done, or do, not what they should do. No educa- 
tion is bad, but education of the popular sort is often 
worse. The man of no education explores for himself, 
and settles things upon the best principles he can see ; 
but the man who is " educated," after the proper fashion * 
of the day, has settled all things, easily and quickly, by 
reference to past standards. He dismisses all problems 
at once, putting upon each its proper tag. 

Only the strong character is much profited by so-called 
education. A man should be like the oak tree, which 
stands in the field and sends out its roots for needed 
elements of nutrition. It does not take up so much 
potash, lime, soda, and keep them potash, lime, and soda ; 
but converts them into oak. All elements pay tribute to 



138 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. 

that organism. Some men through study become simply 
large reflectors. When education overpowers the native 
genius of a man, however small that may have been, it is 
not good, but evil. The Universe itself is the soil in 
which this tree of Thought is planted. The Kosmic 
phenomena offer themselves gladly for its nourishment. 
The elements hasten to sacrifice themselves to upbuild 
its tissue. It is the tree Igdrasil, its roots penetrating 
to the primal chaos. 

THE OFFICE OF POETRY. 

The spirit of true poetry is music; an indefinable, 
penetrating harmony, residing not in the words, not in 
the meter, not in the rhythm, not in the arrangement, but, 
as it were, flowing through all these, like a brook through 
a meadow. Verse that has not this music in it is not 
true poetry, however it may have usurped the forms of 
poetry. Tricks cannot compass it. Calculation cannot 
achieve it. Analysis cannot find it. Only the soul can 
feel it, and create it. Tried by this test, much that is 
called poetry is found mere jingle; and some so-called 
prose is found to be truest poetry. Poetry is Beauty in 
speech : and no form can contain it. Meter, verse, rhythm, 
are but convenient arrangements for the expression of 
this Beauty. It can never be attained through these 
alone. 

The poet should be not merely the describer of nature's 
beauties. Poetry should interpret. It must reveal not 
only Beauty, but Truth and Good. The true poem shows 
me how the poet feels when the soul in him confronts 
the vast phenomenon of nature. Some poets interpret, 
some speak in a tongue. The utterance of some no man 
can interpret. It is not for edification, but for a sign. 
The reader is amazed, is convicted of a spiritual power, 
but is not able to understand the phenomenon. Com- 
mentators and critics labor in vain. They are not able 



LITERATURE AND LIFE. 139 

to come at the meaning. Some say it is thunder of mere 
words, others say that an angel speaks. Let every man 
be fully persuaded in his own mind. I think that most 
persons are able to detect the tone of the prophet in a 
man's words. The true poet speaks as one having au- 
thority, and not as the scribes. The poet is one who 
sees visions, and whose soul burns with the burden of 
them, until they are spoken forth. Thus the poet is a 
prophet, and his message is divine. He is the nation's 
High-priest, communing with the Invisible in the people's 
behalf. His place is known by the pillar of cloud by 
day and the pillar of fire by night. The Divine Presence 
shines, round about him, and his face and form are 
illumined with a spiritual splendor. His words are true 
Eevelation, and have the weight of Divine utterance. 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 



^J^c 



A PAEADISE OF THE PACIFIC. 

July 1, i5P5.— Eureka! I have found It! It, thus 
emphasized, is my Ideal Camping Ground; my Happy 
Hunting Ground ; the Abode of Manitou. Truly, It is 
Paradise, or the vestibule thereof, which is good enough 
for me ! Catalina island, twenty miles long, with moun- 
tains and canons, full of wild goats and small game ; a 
stretch of calm water, sheltered for fifteen miles from 
the southwest swells of the Pacific ; a sea full of gold- 
fish, flying-fish, starfish, and strange, beautiful things ; 
and such a climate ! For five long, beautiful summer 
months not a storm, not a drop of rain, not a hot or cold 
day ; but just such weather as the angels have in heaven ! 
My tent is jDitched on a high point overlooking the bay, 
with its scores of dancing boats, its wharf where the 
steamers land from Eedondo and San Pedro, its great 
bath-house ; and the valley with its hotels, cottages, and 
scores of white tents. My boat floats at her mooring 
just below, and I, in my '' Sea-gull's Nest," shall dream 
fine dreams, and think high and beautiful thoughts, I 
trust, such as befit the place. 

I went to-day up the trail to the summit of the first 
range of mountains. The view was most magnificent. 
Away to the east lay the calm Pacific, mingled with the 
blue sky, so that a white sail, far away, seemed to be 
floating in the air; to the west, undulating hills and 
valleys, carpeted with rich grass, cured by the dry air. 

140 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 141 

The island in summer is a vast garden of dried herbs 
and grasses, the scent of which, borne on the pure breeze^ 
is very delightful. Cactus grows luxuriantly on every 
hillside. Green shrubs are abundant, with many flower- 
ing plants. Ground squirrels and birds of many species 
animate the scene, while the air is full of song. The 
mocking-bird pours out her rich notes, filling every canon 
with music and setting the echoes going among the 
hills. From afar comes faintly the plaintive note of the 
mourning dove, as if bewailing the extinction of the primi- 
tive races that inhabited this island, and left their pottery 
and bones to awaken the curiosity or reverence of the 
white man. Over all pours a flood of sunshine, which 
lights the raiment of the hills with a golden splendor. 
The soft air is elixir, and seems to fill one's whole being 
with new life. 

THE DIVINE SELF. 

Standing on the lofty ridge of the mountains, more 
in heaven than on earth, it seemed to me that the Divine 
Presence was very near, and that I needed only to lift 
my eyes to see His glory. There alone on the summit I 
held communion with my Divine Self, and perceived that 
to live the Truth, to walk in the Perfect Way, to repre- 
sent Divine Perfection, is the highest aim of man. I re- 
called to myself some convictions which I have found 
growing faint of late, but which, in the pure air and sun- 
shine of the mountains, were renewed in all their splendor. 
I know not whether any sign appeared, but it was a Mount 
of Transfiguration to me. I cast behind me a certain 
self who has been for some time parading in my costume 
and character, and i3ut on the Eeal Self, the Divine Self, 
in which dwells all perfection. 



142 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

THE SOCIETY OF SOLITUDE. 

July 2. — My hand is unsteady this morning, from 
sturdy wielding of the hammer yesterday afternoon, 
laying the foundation for my camp; but my mind is 
very steady, as befits a lover of the Stoic and the Hindu 
wisdom. Already this morning I have received a social 
call from a humming-bird, and other neighbors are illum- 
ing themselves for a visit. In spite of my rough attire 
I think I shall be received here in the very best society. 

Goddess Aurora, peeping over the blue mountain tops 
this morning, seemed really pleased to see me, and I am 
sure I was very glad to see her ; for I have not looked 
upon her ruddy face and rosy fingers since long ago last 
summer. The inhabitants of town and city are never 
favored with a glimpse of this fair goddess. She veils 
herself from them, and shows herself only to her lovers 
in mountain and wildwood. 

Last night I slept with only the sky for a roof, fretted 
with golden stars, which looked down on me kindly, as 
if to renew an acquaintance some time neglected. The 
Big Dipper has not changed in appearance in the years I 
have looked up to it, from many lakes and mountains ; 
and the North Star still shines steady in his ancient 
place. I have wandered, but he has remained, to remind 
me that in the midst of fleeting appearances there are 
things that do not change. 

MAN THE LIGHT-BEAKER. 
July 3. — This morning the sun rose clear and bright, 
his face undimmed by fog. So should man rise each 
morning, with unclouded face, to look upon the beautiful 
world. The Hindu Brahman a, bright with the Brahmic 
splendor, is the type of what every man should be. Bright 
with the splendor of his divine nature, the spirit of man 
is indeed the candle of the Lord. But in many, yes, I 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 143 

fear most of us, this candle of the Lord is under a bushel, 
and not on a candlestick where it may give light to all 
that are in the house. Each man should be a sun of 
righteousness with healing in his wings, rising over the 
horizon of life each day to shed his light and life abroad. 
Lucifer, light-bearer, should be the generic name of man. 
The Greek Prometheus, who caught a flame of the celes- 
tial fire and brought it to the earth, is a significant char- 
acter in mythology. In the deep meaning of that myth 
I see a hint of the higher possibilities of man. Let me, 
let thee, brother, be another Prometheus, to bless our 
fellows with a gift of the divine fire ; yea, even though 
suffering should be our penalty, as was his. To commune 
with Reality, to look with the open eye of the soul upon 
Truth, to know that in our inmost nature we are divine, 
that time and space and things physical are but fleet- 
ing incidents, and that Spirit is the only eternal ; what 
knowledge is like unto this ? 

THE PRINCE OF NATURE. 

The princes of nature's realm find their heritage await- 
ing them in every place. They need not to take the sword 
to gain their own. Born in hovel or manger, they open 
their eyes on a world already theirs. It invites them to 
possess it. Their ownership is absolute, needing no title- 
deeds to prove it. 

I would be a prince in this vast realm ; my highest 
ambition to adequately live therein. But how great is 
the character one must have to play this part ! Elowers 
and birds, trees and clouds and running streams, admon- 
ish one of the beauty and purity required in him who 
would companion with them. Sea-birds in their graceful 
flight ; shells, more beautiful within than without ; gems 
and flowers of the deep : these are the alphabet of that 
language which my prince must learn. The speech of 
nature shall be his, to commune with the soul of the 



144 LIFE AKD LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

stars, the flowers, the sea-plants; and the language of 
birds he must know, for they will be his sweetest com- 
panions. The winds that sweep over the salt water, or 
down from the rugged hills, bringing with them the scent 
of grasses and flowers, or a whiff of old Neptune's breath, 
these, calling early and late, staying never a moment, 
but just opening the flap of his tent, or lifting the drapery 
of his couch to look in upon him, — these, I say, will be 
his frequent visitors, and he must be wary and watchful, 
lest some whispered secret of theirs escape him. 

The mocking-bird — how many voices of nature do 
but mock us with a melody we would give the world to 
hear in their full and complete harmony ! the mocking- 
bird, I say, will pour out her musical refrain, ever chang- 
ing, and yet ever full of the same rich melody; and my 
prince must keep his ears delicately attuned, lest he should 
lose one of those marvelous notes. The harsh noises of 
the world, which lately bruised his ears, have all died 
away, not the faintest echo of them remaining to mar the 
sweet harmony of nature's voices ; but there are harsh 
tones in his own voice, guttural notes, the remains of the 
tiger's growl, which must be all charmed away, so that 
his tongue shall never lacerate his ear with discord. A 
sweet little fairy must touch his lips with her perfumed 
wand, so that they shall forever forget how to coin any 
but the sweetest and purest tones. Bird-notes, the hum 
of the bee, the music of waves lapping the pebbly beach, 
these notes of nature's symphony may enter in and pos- 
sess my prince's voice ; but all harsher notes must melt 
away, like dying echoes among the mountain crags. 

So daily will my prince prepare himself for the realm 
that awaits him. Ever alert, ever zealous, ever learning 
lessons of beauty and purity from every teacher in na- 
ture's school, he will become daily more beautiful, more 
pure, more wise, more tender and loving and compassion- 
ate ; and the light within his soul will grow brighter and 



PAGES FKOM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 145 

brighter, and shine out to admonish men of a diviner 
life than that commonly known, which might be lived 
by all who would aspire to it. So might earth become 
heaven, and men and women become as gods. 

Enchanting is the dream of this divine life ; inexpres- 
sibly sweet the thought of it. It is as the scent of 
flowers in the desert ; as the sight of water in a thirsty 
land ; or the shadow of trees in a midsummer day. It is 
born of the divine soul within, whose nature is all-per- 
fect. It is a light shining in a dark place, and the feet 
of men are drawn to it with a power that must at last 
prevail. 

THE WOELD OE SOUND. 

The sea is a continual study, of which I never tire. 
Along the rocky shore, where the water is clear as crys- 
tal, the rank sea-weed waves its dark green arms, or trails 
its long waving stems like serpents ; and in and out of 
its tangled folds glide scores of goldfish, like animated 
flames. Schools of small fish swarm through the water, 
and here and there one may see a dark bass gliding among 
the rocks. Sea-gulls and ravens soar overhead, and on 
the hillsides scores of ground squirrels dart about. In the 
canons the rich melody of the mocking-bird wakes the 
echoes, and all nature seems to listen. I should think 
that other birds would cease to sing forever, after hearing 
their characteristic note sounded in the full, rich voice 
of this charmer. But birds and men must sing, even 
though they hear their own song chanted in a better 
voice. I have heard my feeble thoughts chanted in a 
celestial tone by the sacred bards of Time, and yet I sing 
on, straining my voice the more to utter a sweeter mel- 
ody. There must be mocking-birds and nightingales, 
and there must be the humbler songsters ; and I suppose 
even the raven's hoarse, discordant cry is music to the 
loving ear of Nature. 'Tis for us to tune our ears, and 



146 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

we shall hear music everywhere. How little do we hear 
of the great world of Sound ! I stood day before yester- 
day on a hillside, with my eyes closed, listening to the 
symphony of bird-notes that filled the air. Many sounds 
are like the stars, and are heard only when the sun of the 
eye has yielded his all-potent sway to darkness. When 
I closed my eyes it seemed to me that I stood in a newly 
discovered world. A sea of bird-song beat upon the shore 
of my consciousness, and the ripple of its waves seemed 
the sweetest music I had ever heard. I realized that I 
stood upon the shore of a sea whose broad expanse no 
man had ever sailed. Islands and continents of joy lie 
there all undiscovered, awaiting their Columbus. I be- 
lieve that the universe is full of joys all undiscovered 
by the dull mind of man. We burrow like moles under- 
ground, while over us the sun shines, flowers bloom, and 
birds sing. No man has dreamed of the beneficence of 
this universe. We live in it like strangers, knowing 
little of its possibilities for joy. Beauty clothes all 
things in its divine mantle, harmony pulses through all 
the motions of the atoms, and love broods at the heart 
of life. Man is divine, and the universe is his beautiful 
home forever. The highest is for him ; the best he ever 
dreamed awaits him. 

MAN AND NATUEE. 

July 5. — Last night the bay was a fairy scene. Boats 
glided about, illuminated with colored lights. Colored 
fires burned alopg the beach and on the hilltops. Sky- 
rockets shot heavenward, bursting and dropping their 
balls of colored light like tears of joy. Eoman candles 
poured volley after volley of fiery balls into the ranks of 
darkness. The steamer from San Pedro, with its load 
of passengers, glided like an enchanted palace over the 
gleaming waters of the bay, and found her moorings at 
the wharf. Music floated over the water, and the sound 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 147 

of happy voices ; and all was joy. Above it all, far up 
on the hillside, I looked down from my tent, and found 
a poetic pleasure in the scene. It seemed to harmonize 
with fireflies and phosphorescent lights of the sea and 
the twinkling stars overhead. If I had descended, the 
poetry would have left the scene, and it would have been 
mere barbaric noise and fire. 

As I sat there, looking alternately at the gala scene 
below and the quiet stars above, which seemed not to 
change countenance at all this fine display, I perceived 
that the works of man occupy but a very small space in 
nature, and that they do not change much with the flight 
of ages. I found that it required but a slight effort of 
the imagination to convert that scene into a savage jubi- 
lee, with beating tom-toms, bonfires, and exultant war- 
cries. These canoes were propelled by steam, and the 
fires were red and green, and the musical instruments 
were of a different material from that used by the primi- 
tive inhabitants of the island ; but hoAV wide is the gap 
between the actual lives of the two races ? Is it the im- 
passable gulf our egotism has pictured ? Let us not say 
it. Man everywhere is noble, if he is unfallen. The 
absence of steam-engines and telegraphs does not neces- 
sarily indicate the absence of those qualities of character 
which make life most worth living. We must look to 
these things lest they betray us. We must not abate one 
jot of ethical endeavor because of these fine engines we 
have made. They will not take us the sooner to heaven. 
We shall get no quicker news from God through our tele- 
graph and telephone. The phonograph does not improve 
our appreciation of the music it records. Divine life, 
growth in character, comes not from these things, but 
from communion with the Spirit of Life. 'Tis that which 
measures our distance from the savage, not our telegraphs 
and steamships. By so far as we have approached God, 
the Perfect Life, have we distanced our savage progeni- 



148 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

tor. We cannot leave liim behind by riding on the rail- 
road train. 

It needs somewhat else than the telephone to bring 
two people into shorter speaking distance. I have spoken 
to people in a loud tone of voice who were in the very 
same room with me, and they heard me not. They were 
miles and miles beyond the reach of my voice. Could a 
telegraph or telephone have brought them closer ? Surely 
they were close enough so far as space was concerned. 
But I have observed that space is not the only thing that 
separates people. If this is true, it needs something more 
than the telephone to bring them together. 

Such thoughts as these floated in my mind as I sat in 
my tent and looked down upon the festivities of the 
people. But I was wise enough not to go down and 
utter these opinions in the crowd. I have learned the 
folly of that by experience. I shall still sit above, 
" alone with the stars," and keep my lips closed, unless 
to pray. My own know me and will come to me. They 
are on the upward Path that leads to the hill-summit. 
They, too, look down sometimes on the festivities of the 
world, but do not mingle therewith. Their eyes are set 
starward, and the pure gleam of the quiet stars, changing 
not through the ages of human history, charms them more 
than the dazzling spectacle of human art. Nature ! 
Thou vast Mother of us all ! With what infinite good 
humor and patience thou dost deal with thy foolish 
children; watching them at their pranks, smiling at 
their saucy inventions, and still keeping thy bosom of 
love bared for them when they shall weary of it all and 
turn to thee for comfort ! Let me rest upon thy bosom, 
O Mother, and find the peace and joy which the world 
has not given me ! Thou art ever the same. Thou 
changest not, through all the centuries. Hearts turn to 
dust, but thy heart still beats with love. Hopes of men 
fade away, like the morning mist, most beautiful when 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 149 

tinted by the sun that dispels it ; but in thee there is 
continual joy and renewing of life. Thou art never ex- 
hausted ; thy bounty of beauty and good is infinite, wait- 
ing the opening heart of man to receive it. 

WAVE-SYMPHONIES. 

July 24. — I spent the latter part of this afternoon in 
my boat, coasting along the island. A smart breeze was 
blowing from the southeast, and most of the time I sat in 
the stern of the boat simply guiding her as she drifted 
before the wind. I passed many jutting points of rock, 
where the sea-birds circled on tireless wings, and in the 
blue waters the goldfish glided among the dark green 
seaweed. The brilliant green of the shrubs on the hill- 
side contrasted finely with the golden glow of the grass, 
dried in the summer sun. The scenery along the shore is 
charming. In some places high bluffs descend abruptly 
to the water's edge, their base resting in a bed of gleam- 
ing pebbles, washed by the ceaseless waves. At other 
points a canon comes down to the beach, its sides clothed 
in green and gold. At the mouth of the caiion a pebbly 
beach invites the drifting wanderer to land and explore 
the bed of what is in the rainy season a rushing creek. A 
broad expanse of golden grass, dotted with green shrubs, 
tempts you to pitch your tent and spend a day or two, fish- 
ing, sketching, or idly dreaming and watching the chang- 
ing colors in the water, or the shifting scenery of the 
clouds. A distant yacht seems to hang between sea and 
sky, its white sail hardly bulging with the gentle breeze. 
Sea-gulls soar around the rocks, a raven with hoarse croak 
sails by over your head, and flying-fish break from the 
waves and skim for a few seconds over the water. It is 
dream-land, fairyland, and it does not seem possible that 
there is such a thing as care or grief in the whole world. 
It seems as if the music of the world must be pitched to 
the key of the surf -beat and the winds which breathe soft 



150 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

melody around the rugged crags. In such a scene, you per- 
ceive the true state of man in the world, how divine and 
beautiful it ought to be. What but a god should inhabit 
this fair scene ? What figure but that of a god is fit to 
stand in the foreground of such a picture ? What place for 
grief or pain is there in my blessed island ? What xjlace 
for sin or wrong ? How harshly does the grief or pain 
of man clash with the blessed harmonies of beauty here ? 

FISHING FOE, BEAUTY. 

On some of the small beaches fishermen have estab- 
lished a camp, and the odor of dried fish pervades the air, 
mingling not unpleasantly with the salty odors of the sea. 
Racks of lath on which the fish are spread to dry lie here 
and there, and tin cans, empty bottles, bits of netting, 
heads and tails of fish, blackened stones surrounded by 
ashes and bits of bone, give evidence that Man has invaded 
the peaceful scene in the interests of trade. 

And yet, although the fisherman may invade this peace- 
ful shore, and cast his net into the blue waters to drag out 
the beautiful creatures of the deep, the scene does not 
belong to him, but to the poet or artist-soul, whose heart 
stirs within him at the sight of all this quiet beauty. 
The waves sing to him not of fish and fish-markets, but 
of the primal beauty of creation, which is as fresh and 
sweet on these secluded shores as in the day of Adam, 
and does not need to be dried or salted or smoked to 
preserve its quality for other generations. The product 
of these beautiful beaches and coves to me is a somewhat 
that does not grow less with gathering or marketing, — 
if indeed it ever can be marketed. I cast my net, and 
find it filled with a most miraculous draught ; for I know 
where to cast it. The fisherman does not know. He may 
break his nets with the multitude of fish, but he never 
brings to shore what I am fishing for. His nets will not 
take it. 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 151 

Numbers of slieep wander through the canons and 
over the hills, so long uncared for by their reputed 
keepers that they are virtually wild sheep, belonging to 
the Owner of the hills Himself. Wild goats also abound, 
possibly descended from some scapegoat sent into the 
wilderness by the primitive inhabitants. Hunters deem 
it rare fun to chase these wild goats over the hills, and 
bring them down at long range with rifles. But I should 
prefer to see them roaming in fearless freedom over the 
hills which belong to no earthly owner so truly as to 
these wild creatures that find their home and spend their 
brief life in these wild solitudes. 

THE MUSIC OF THE SOUL. 
To me, the sea seems always young and recent. I 
cannot see a single wrinkle in her brow. As old as 
eternity, she is still as young as the morning. Over her 
face flit the shadows of the clouds, like smiles upon the 
face of an infant. She sings the song the morning stars 
sang together in the beginning of creation. Her waves 
are ever chanting the chant of joy, and do not know a 
single minor note. The ancient sea, the new-created sea; 
the sea which swam around the earth when first the light 
of heaven broke the veil of night, and threw its glory 
over the works of God, the sea which murmurs at the feet 
of man to-day, whispering of a new-born earth, to every 
earnest and reverent soul ; this sea so full of beauty that 
no man need fish therein for that and come back empty- 
handed; so clothed in light, so filled with wonders, so 
redolent, so sweet, so peaceful and serene, suggesting the 
infinitude of Life and its boundless scope in Time; who 
shall chide me for loving this wondrous sea, and chanting 
its praises in many-modulated strains ? If only the music 
of its waves could be repeated or echoed in my lines, 
what songs and poems there should be ! No Homer ever 
caught the mystic music of the many-sounding sea to 



152 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. 

weave its witching harmony through his graceful lines. 
No silver-tongued, no god-like orator ever caught the 
chant of the breaking waves to repeat its matchless music 
in his polished rhetoric. ]SJ"o, the music of the sea can 
be rendered only by the waves themselves, sweeping the 
many -stringed lyre of the sands. Its deep bass notes 
must be sounded from the throats of rocky caverns, where 
the sea-gull loves to circle, spreading her white wings to 
catch the flying spray. Her higher notes must echo from 
the silver strings of pebbly beaches, where the curling 
breakers leap and sport like white-haired children of the 
deep. It is the echo of the spheral music, the harmony 
of the stars, this many-voiced music of the sea. The 
voices of white-robed angels only are worthy to mingle 
with its celestial strains. And yet, this song celestial, 
this music of the starry spheres, rendered by the waves 
an^i. pebbles, is for the ear of Man. His soul contains 
the harp whose strings can vibrate with these heavenly 
strains. His soul is many-voiced, and all the notes of 
stars and waves resound within its hidden depths. The 
music of the sea is his, the spheral harmony is his, and 
yet diviner strains are his to hear forever, when he shall 
learn his true estate. The universe itself is but the harp 
of million strings on which the soul of man may breathe 
to wake divinest music at his will. Within his soul was 
all this music born, this sea-beat, star-song, wind-melody, 
which rises from the rolling world upon her starry course. 
Man is the sea, the sky ; and through his soul the dark 
waves play, the star-lights gleam, and all the melodies of 
the universe do sound and echo. Know thyself, Man, 
for what thou art, and all thy life shall be a strain of 
music, swelling grandly to the sky, filling the mighty 
world with surging joy, and rippling on the sea of space 
to kiss the shores of farthest stars. 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 153 



THE SPIRIT'S WOELD. 

July 25. — Evening descends, with mantle star-be- 
decked. The moonlight draws a veil of misty shadows 
over the rugged crags, and on the rolling waves doth cast 
her spell so strong that all the gentle nymphs and mer- 
maids of the deep do follow her with joyful shouts, the 
jewels glistening in their waving hair. Strange creatures 
of the ocean caves do waken at the music of the sea- 
nymphs' voices, and stir among their weedy labyrinths. 
The stars of heaven have their sister-lights among the 
rocks and sea-plants of the bay. They flash below the 
darkly 'rolling waves, and all the gems of ocean's hidden 
caves do seem to rise in lively sport among the weed- 
clothed rocks. A spray of molten silver dashes on the 
rugged shores, and shatters into fiery mist among the 
crags. A fairy world awakes to life, and there my spirit 
wanders with the gentle moonbeams, companioning with 
creatures of the air and sea. It is my world, that fairy 
realm, the spirit's native air; and all the day I languish, 
languish, yearning for that world with all its scenes of 
light and joy. I wander on the shores of Time, a listener 
to the sounds of human life, the laughter and the cries of 
pain ; I look upon its fairest scenes with misty eyes, for 
they are not the scenes I love to look upon, the scenes of 
this my fairy world, my world of light and joy. And so 
I love the coming of the fair night-queen, who in her 
robes of light walks forth in heaven to charm the souls of 
men below. She comes to light the poet's world, the 
dreamer's world, the spirit's native realm; and when she 
comes, the soul awakes which erstwhile slept. I love this 
night of beauty and of joy, this spirit-day, when all the 
sights and sounds of grosser earth have died away, and 
wakes to life another world, of spirit-texture, habited by 
creatures of the soul. 



154 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE, 

A MORNING PICTURE. 
July 26. — This morning I rose at 4.15, and started 
for an outing. The eastern sky was delicately tinted with 
the first blushes of morning, and the Avater of the bay 
was as calm as the heavens overhead. I secured some 
small fish for bait, and rowed to Rocky Point, where I 
cast my anchor. But I could not be interested in fishing. 
In the presence of the Beauty of morning, with sea and 
sky and the distant hills appealing to my soul, it seemed 
very idiotic to sit in a boat, dangling a long string with 
a hook at the end of it. It seemed to me that a man's 
time must be very cheap who could afford to spend it in 
such a Avay. But I baited my hook, and let it down into 
the sea. hoping that I should get a bite from something 
Avorthy my attention. I suppose I did not attend to my 
line as Avell as I should have done in order to catch fish. 
A long fishing-boat approached, betAveen me and the 
horizon, and the boat, Avith its figures of men, standing 
out against a brilliant golden sky, where the sun Avas 
struggling Avith the mist, made a startlingly beautiful 
picture. I think I had a bite, Avhile I Avas gazing at that 
picture, Avith an artist's longing to put it upon cauA^as, 
for Avhen I pulled up my line, my bait Avas gone. I soon 
found that nature was fishing for me much more success- 
fully than I Avas for the fish, using the bait of Beauty 
with a thousand lines. Hoav could I catch fish under 
such conditions ? I myself Avas caught up, and saAv a 
vision of the Spirit of Nature, robed in the morning light. 
I soon pulled up my anchor, and set out for Pebble Beach. 

THE LAW OF LABOR. 

July 27. — This forenoon I spent in fixing my boat to 
receive a small sail. I confess that I seldom enjoy roAV- 
ing. It is suggestive of the primal curse of labor. It 
represents to me the struggle of man against nature, and 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 155 

when I am pulling against the tide, the waves, or the 
wind, I feel that I am simply in line with most human 
effort since the world began. Civilization began with 
the effort of man to overcome nature, and the curse of 
God has chiefly accompanied it. I see a higher law for 
man than this conflict with the forces that are around 
him. I see that it is possible for him to live so in harmony 
with nature that his work shall be a blessed play, a 
recreation, yes, verily, a re-creation, for it will be the 
creative power working through him. I see that this 
will come so soon as man begins to obey his instincts, 
and to yield to that Infinite Power which saturates the 
world and all things therein. When I spread my sail 
to the breeze, I am in harmony with nature. Her power 
drives my boat. I am no longer a wretched galley slave, 
laboring at my heavy task, but a spirit of joy, a comrade 
of the bird, the fish, the nautilus. I ride in a chariot 
of the sun, for 'tis he who drives the horses of the winds, 
l^eptune's chariot was not more beautiful than is my 
boat to me, when her wings are filled with the sweet 
breath of old ocean. The bounding waves leap up to 
sport with me, and seem conscious of my joy. this 
Infinite Nature in which we live ! This Infinite Power by 
which we are surrounded ! Yea, this Infinite Life, which 
throbs in every tiny form that hides even in the ocean 
caves! How has man escaped it? How missed his 
share in its bounteous energy and health? Surely by 
pulling against the stream of nature, and not by sailing 
with her glad, fresh currents. Henceforth let me sail, 
float, fly ; but let me crawl and creep, toil and struggle 
no more again forever ! 

THE TRUE HEAVEN. 

I DO not write as much as I feel that one ought who 
seems to have no other occupation in life. Whether it 
is because I find so little that is notable in my daily life, 



156 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

or whether it is because every moment is full of thoughts 
and suggestions which it were hopeless to attempt to 
state, I cannot say. My life seems often commonplace, 
and yet, as I look back at it from some point of vantage, 
it is full of beauty. I live in the presence of the sublimest 
thoughts. I commune with Mystery, with Destiny, and 
listen to oracles from the Soul, and yet I do not set these 
down in writing. I face Infinity, I ask prayerful ques- 
tions, and hearken attentively to the answers given ; but 
it does not seem meet to set them down. I cannot put 
my highest dreams and visions into words. I see my 
thought reflected in the shimmer of golden light upon 
the waters of the bay, when the full moon sails out above 
the hills. That sparkling track of light, poured out like 
molten gold upon the waves, seems to me a path to para- 
dise. I would follow that, obeying the mystic charm of 
the beautiful queen of night, even as the waves, the 
sportive children of the sea, obey it. That beauty draws 
me with a power I cannot resist, and makes the world 
of garish day seem bald and barren. Truly the kingdom 
of heaven is within. Man may have so much of heaven 
as he is able to put within his breast. By purification, 
by aspiration, by growth in holiness, this world is all 
transformed, and the growing soul can feel no longing for 
a better world beyond the far horizon. The beauty 
that a man can see he will find here and now. If he 
should go to another world, he would find no more. No 
shore of heaven can be fairer to my eyes than is this 
shore of ocean. Purification of the heart is the only road 
to heaven. 

DRIFTING. 

July 28. — This morning I stocked my boat with a 
day's rations, water, fish-line, sketching outfit, etc., and 
started for an outing. I went with the wind, having no 
especial preference as to direction. I suppose if any one 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 157 

had asked me where I was gomg, I should have answered 
him, "Chasing sunbeams." It is a great victory over 
personal will when we can say "This day I am Fate's 
and Nature's child. Let the good Destiny do with me 
whatsoever it will. I am content. I have no plot or 
plan. To-day I choose not to work, but to be worked 
upon." 

I coasted along the island to the southeast, my boat 
not so much sailing as drifting before a very light 
breeze. I felt that to-day I had as much leisure as 
nature herself, and could afford to be content with the 
breeze she gave me. If she had sent a dead calm, I 
doubt if I should have taken to the oars, but should 
rather have said : " Very well, let there be peace. Let 
the wind rest from blowing and the waves cease from 
rolling. I will meditate on eternity." 

I passed Rocky Point, where a dozen boats were an- 
chored, their occupants earnestly engaged in angling. 
I coasted gently along Pebble Beach, and saw huge fishes 
leap and tumble in eager pursuit of minnows. At the 
southern end of the beach is a high, steep, rocky point, 
and here were more boats with fishers. Still on I drifted, 
dreaming pleasant dreams and watching the sea-gulls in 
their graceful flight. After an hour or two of this easy 
drifting, the wind died out so that it did not keep the 
sail extended. Then, seeing a j)oint which I took to be 
Seal Eock, I let down the sail and took up the oars. Soon 
I found the wind ahead, coming strongly around a jut- 
ting point, and the sea began to roll heavily. I heard 
the hoarse honking of a sea-lion, and soon I saw the 
huge ungainly fellow on a rock, looking out at me. Then 
I heard the barking of seals, and soon a whole colony of 
them appeared on Seal Rock. Another old watch-dog of 
a sea-lion set up a noisy honking, making the rocks re- 
echo. I rowed as close to the rock as the heavy sea 
would permit, and watched with deep interest the curi- 



158 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

ous colony. The big fellows became suspicious of jiiy 
intentions, and with a hoarse cry plunged off the rock, 
diving for some distance. They swam around the rock, 
looking at me and hoarsely bellowing, and seemed to be 
solicitous for the safety of the brood. After watching 
them for some time I rowed away, the echoes of the 
sea-lion's bellow mingling with the roar of the waves 
breaking among the rocks. 

TEAVELING TEUTHWARD. 

Aug. 2^. — Yesterday I started about 9 a.m. in my boat 
for a sail along the island toward the north. There was 
a light breeze, which carried me fast enough for any busi- 
ness I had on hand. I was thinking as I drifted slowly 
along that after all it makes very little difference how 
fast we travel, if we are traveling for moral growth. If 
my journey is profitable, perhaps the longer it is, the 
better. If it is not profitable, why should I undertake it 
at all ? I should have lost a great deal yesterday had I 
been hustled from here to the Isthmus in a steam yacht. 
Sometimes we are in a feverish condition of unrest, and 
desire fast traveling simply because it takes ns from the 
place where we are and puts us elsewhere in a shorter 
time. But this is a spurious cure. The heroic and real 
way to get away from trouble or discontent is to travel 
with the mind toward truth. The faster we go in that 
direction the better for us ; but in any other direction it 
seems to me to make very little difference at what speed 
we go. 

A few days ago when my boat was becalmed and the 
sail hung limp and empty, I thought that after all I was 
speeding along at a mighty rate, through the sea of space. 
My good ship the world never gets becalmed, or out of 
her course, and on her deck I travel as no steamboat 
passenger ever did. Why not call a halt to our railroad 
trains, steamships and sailing vessels, once in awhile. 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 159 

and consider on what a craft we are all traveling toward 
eternity ? Are we drifting on the sea of space, or is our 
good ship Captained by Infinite Love and Wisdom? 
What freight we carry on this voyage! What is our 
port ? 

I find that the size of one's ship is not the real thing 
to consider, but whither he is bound. Yesterday I was 
passed by several yachts, with large sails, and I suppose 
the occupants of them felt some pity, possibly contempt, 
for the lone sailor whose craft was creeping forward at 
such a slow pace. But I said to myself, I am sailing for 
the sail, and they are doubtless sailing for some port. 
Each is fitted with what he needs most ; they with sails, 
I with leisure and content. I sailed along until I had 
passed White's Canon. Just beyond there the breeze 
died out entirely, and I took up the oars. Eowing along 
under high rocky bluffs, I feasted my eyes on the luxuri- 
ant sea-weed, growing in long trailing streamers from the 
rocks at the bottom. I saw scores of goldfish leisurely 
swimming in and out of the dark green masses, and schools 
of the lively bass here and there, darting away from 
my boat and vanishing like shadows among the sea-weed. 
I coasted along the shore for some distance, passing 
under huge overhanging cliffs, where the action of the 
waves had in many years worn out great caves, from 
which came deep, hollow roars and gurglings of the waves. 
Sea-birds soared around, alighting on points of rock and 
looking at me. The fishes around my boat seemed very 
companionable, and I felt a friendliness in the surround- 
ings that made human society for the time very unneces- 
sary to my happiness. I landed on a small beach, and 
gathering some driftwood made a fire under an over- 
hanging rock, and cooked my dinner. I had a melon, and 
some griddle-cakes, without any condiments or trimmings, 
and felt that I should never want a finer meal. 



160 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 



HEALTH AND HUNGER. 

So welcome does hunger make the plainest and coarsest 
food, that I am inclined to set down to the score of ill 
health much more than it is ordinarily charged with. I 
set down luxury in food, in dress, in household equip- 
ment, as largely due to the invalidism which needs to be 
pampered and coaxed into eating, or even into existing 
at all. When a man is healthy, hungry, and happy, he 
does not count his spoons. He does not have the patience 
to study a long menu, but says, ^^ Let me have something 
to eat, and that at once ; no matter what, so it be legiti- 
mate food." 

I think that disgust for food and disgust for life are 
both symptoms of a certain invalidism, or disease ; and 
that perfect health makes a man enjoy any sort of food, 
and any sort of life. This world is very appetizing to 
one who is hungry for life. I can eat it in large slices, 
without salad or dressing, when I am feeling well. But 
let me have a fit of the blues, and the fairest portions of 
the earth are indigestible. I refuse them peevishly, and 
want something else, — what, I do not know. Let us 
have health, brothers, and the world will be a great ripe 
melon, which we will sit down to with a zest no school- 
boy ever felt. We shall eat thereof and be glad, and 
suffer no colic. Health is the one sauce for the world. 
Eaten with that, it is infinitely relishing ; but without it, 
most of us find very poor eating indeed. 

After dinner I continued my journey toward the Isth- 
mus, rowing in the face of a stiff breeze and contending 
with heavy seas. I rowed thus for perhaps three miles, 
and then concluded that I had gone as far as my business 
called me. I brought my boat up into the wind, and 
shook out my leg-of-mutton sail, and was soon speeding 
away for home. Running before the wind, I saw that 
my mast was being overstrained, and I was preparing 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 161 

for a break when suddenly I heard a crash, and the mast 
was broken in the middle. I had taken off my heavy 
shoes, and disengaged myself from the ropes in expecta- 
tion of a breakdown, and so was in nowise put out by 
the sudden mishap. I quickly gathered the sail and top 
of the mast in from the water, and before old Neptune 
knew what I was doing, had them safely stowed in the 
boat, and was pulling for calm water just behind a jut- 
ting point of rocks. I landed, spliced my mast with 
rope, took a reef in the sail, hoisted it again, and put out 
to sea. The boat flew before the stiff breeze, even under 
this short sail, and I was not long in reaching Avalon. 
I came into port with all my rigging, though in a rather 
dilapidated condition. I brought back with me a quan- 
tity of sea-shells, considerable salt water, and much expe- 
rience of a valuable nature. 

SPIEITS OF THE NIGHT-WINDS. 

Aug. 4. — I awoke last night, some time after one or 
two o'clock, probably, and drawing the curtain of my door 
I stood looking out over the bay, where the waning moon, 
now in her last quarter, was pouring from her golden urn 
a stream of light upon the rippling water. Lights gleamed 
in the rigging of the steamer and the yachts that lay at 
anchor in the bay, and a few stars overhead peeped down 
as if to greet me, the child of fancy, arising to look at my 
native world. Why is it that the night and the twilight 
and the dim glow of the morning sky have ever possessed 
such a charm for poetic minds ? Is not the day beautiful ? 
Is not the Sun-king glorious in his regal robes ? Are not 
the hills and valleys glorious in the poured-out light of 
the noonday sun? Yes, but the night and the morning 
are more beautiful, because then the dim light awakes 
the creative energies of the soul, and to the world before 
her she adds another world of her OAvn creation, filled 
with the creatures of her own fancy. What fairy creat- 



162 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

ures inhabit that mystic world that lies just beyond the 
horizon of this one, when out of it the golden moon 
arises, to bring trooping in her train the airy nymphs of 
the upper sea ! Star-lights are the torches of fairy troops, 
marching or dancing to the music of the winds. The 
moon is their sun, and on its beams they ride through the 
misty air, chanting their glad songs. 

Spirits of the night-winds, sweeping your harps with 
delicate hands, sing to me the songs of memory's mystic 
strains. Out of the darkening past arise the phantoms 
of things that were ; the joys of youth, the expectations 
of boyhood, the joyous visions of the future years. Sing 
to me those strains, O spirits of the night- winds, and let 
your harps be tuned to sweeter notes than any I have 
ever heard from instruments of earth. Let the golden 
harmonies of the morning stars, sung in the early dawn 
of creation's day, become the themes of your celestial 
music ; and let the notes ring out upon the still night air 
to charm the ear of listening earth. I hear the murmur 
of the waves upon the beach, I catch the whispers of the 
wandering breeze, sporting with his fairy love, the spirit 
of the morning star; 1 hear the murmur of night's mystic 
voices, rising on the stilly air; I catch faint echoes of a 
starry music, compact of all the aspirations of the souls 
of men, rising to join the harmony of the spheres ; I know 
the melodies of the sea, the earth, the air ; I have heard 
them all, chanted by the waves, the winds, the branches 
of the trees ; I know that there are fairer melodies than 
all of these, melodies which the soul of man doth hear 
when with a reverent ear he listens at the opened gates 
of heaven; I know that melodies are throbbing on the 
air which never soul of man hath heard, and I would fain 
be blessed with some faint echo of these strains. Sing, 
then, my spirits of the still night-winds, and let me hear 
the melodies which fill the soul with joy untold. I would 
hear the music which can charm the soul from all alle- 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 163 

giance to the grosser things of earth; which, leading 
heavenward with its witching strains, doth draw the soul 
still onward, u^^ward, to its native air. The music of 
the soul, spirits of the still night-winds, I would have 
you sing to me and charm my ear from all the sounds of 
earth. I listen for that music day and night, uplifting 
heart and mind to catch its faintest echo on the air; I 
know that it is sweeter than the sounds of waves upon the 
beach, sweeping the many-stringed lyre of the sands; I 
know that it is sweeter than the music of the winds, 
playing their symphonies in the boughs of trees, or in 
the tangled meshes of the waving grass ; I know that it 
is one with those sweet notes which T have heard at twi- 
light's mystic hour, when all the spirits of the day are 
sinking into sleep, and nature draws the misty mantle of 
the night around the bed of earth. I know that it will 
chime with those sweet notes which I have heard upon the 
morning air, when first the light of dawn doth waken in 
the east, and tint the sky with colors of the soul ; those 
notes to which the birds do listen before they tune their 
pipes to play the first glad symphony of opening day. 
The fairest notes which I have heard, when with the 
heartstrings delicately tuned I listen to the faintly throb- 
bing music of the world, are coarse and harsh to that 
sweet music of the soul which you can sing, spirits of 
the still night-winds ; and therefore would I hear those 
golden notes, compact of all the sweetest tones of heaven. 
Sing to me, then, and let your harps of moonbeams be 
attuned to sound a fit refrain. My soul is listening, and 
my heart is still. I see your light-draped forms flitting 
among the shadows of the crags, and sporting with the 
shifting mists. I see you trailing streamers of the dark 
sea- weed among the wave-kissed rocks. I see you float- 
ing in the drifting clouds, your garments gleaming with 
the moonlight's golden touch. I know you well, spirits 
of the still night-winds, and know your songs are sweeter 



164 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

than the fairest songs of earth. Sing to me, then, and let 
my soul be charmed to follow where you lead. With 
chords of melody I would be led by you to fairest, purest 
skies, where all the visions of the soul are real, and things 
are what we dream ; where joys of which the soul hath 
hints in hours of inspiration have a real abiding-place, 
and all is harmony and love. These visions of the soul, 
fair spirits of the still night-winds, are all made real in 
those fairy realms to which your music leads. Sing to 
me, then, and let my soul be charmed to follow you, in all 
your airy flights. Over the rolling sea, around the tower- 
ing cliffs, where flying s^Dray makes music 'mong the 
rocks, over the mountains with their wreaths of clouds, 
toward the golden gateway of the morn, where on the 
shores of day the waves of mystic space do roll and break, 
there would I follow you, on aspiration's daring wing, 

spirits of the still night-winds. Sing to me, then, and 

1 will follow you, even to the farthest shores of Time, 
where the eternal mists are gathered, glowing in the 
breaking light of heaven's dawn. 

SPHERE-MUSIC. 
Aug. 6. — I sit in solitude on the beach of the great 
sea. Around me are only the works of nature. I seem 
to be living in the very morning of the world. So always 
doth communion with the spirit of nature annihilate 
Time, and restore man, out of his puny, struggling life, 
to the Primal Creation. I commune with the Spirit that 
was before the world. I am one with that Spirit, and 
Time and Space are not. I perceive that a man returns 
to paradise when he uplifts his soul to commune with 
this ancient Spirit. I am not in Time. I am in the 
realm of Creative Laws. I hear the music of the spheres. 
From the realm whence goeth forth the edict of Creation 
I look out over Time and the Worlds. I perceive the 
struggles of life. I see that in many worlds death pre- 



PAGES mOM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 165 

vails, and birth, and sin. But I see other worlds where 
-these are not. I see other worlds where Harmony is the 
ever-present law. There Love rules, and there are shin- 
ing gods. And out of the realm whence goeth forth the 
edict of Creation 1 see the future as the past : Life, in its 
countless rounds of birth and death ; the birth of wisdom, 
through toil and suffering ; and the achievement of the 
Perfect Life, whence Immortality is born. I see the 
glorified, in their white robes of purity and peace. From 
Time and Space they come, to inhabit Infinity and Eter- 
nity forevermore. Blessed vision, thou art prophetic, 
and my soul is comforted in thee. 

IDEAL EOOD. 

Atig. 8. — My simple fare is as consistent with happi- 
ness as with health. A table set with fruit and nuts 
nourishes not only the body but the soul. I eat not 
merely with the appetite of the flesh, but my soul's hun- 
ger for beauty is fed as well. When my table is set, it is 
a fit subject for an artist's brushes ; but what artist would 
choose a rib of beef or a mutton chop as a subject for a 
picture ? A golden muskmelon, fragrant and sweet ; a 
bunch of purple or white grapes ; a few peaches and 
plums; a section of \vatermelon, with its brilliant black 
seeds set like gems in the rich, red tissue; a plate of ripe, 
red tomatoes, glowing with rich color ; such food as this 
would furnish a subject for a painting, and afterward 
nourish the hand and brain that wielded the brushes. 
Who could write a poem to a piece of pie ? or an ode to 
a beefsteak ? or compose an oration on the qualities of 
boiled ham ? Faugh ! But fruit and nuts tempt the 
very muses, and inspire the mind with fancies as delicate 
and beautiful as their own nature. Poetry may well be 
composed on such a diet. Who could fail to write beauti- 
fully after having dined on distilled dewdrops, crystal- 
lized sunbeams, perfumed airs, tints of morning and 
evening ? 



166 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

We are told that fruits and nuts will not furnish the 
body sufficient nutriment, and that meats and coarse vege- 
tables must be added. I would not decide this question 
for another, but it seems to me that what is purest and 
best in me is well nourished by fruit and nuts. If there 
is a beast in me craving flesh, I prefer to let him starve. 
He cannot die too soon for the good of my higher nature. 
To speak more distinctly, I believe that our diet is chiefly 
an indication of our constitution, and our habits of life 
and thought. If I can live purely enough, dwelling in 
the highest realm of my being, I believe that the dainti- 
est and purest foods will satisfy my needs. But if I 
live coarsely, I must eat coarsely. The beast in me eats 
only when he is active. If I can put him to sleep, he 
will not growl for his meat. 

When my intellectual and spiritual faculties are most 
active my diet is the purest. I think that when the 
body is sufficiently dominated by the higher faculties, so 
that even manual labor is an intellectual and spiritual 
exercise, a diet of fruit and nuts will be adequate to the 
needs of the hardest manual worker. At present, manual 
workers seem to need a coarser diet ; but this may be 
due to the fact that the digestive apparatus has degen- 
erated so far as to be unable to extract sufficient nutri- 
ment from its natural food. Our bodies have been so 
miseducated by generation after generation of false habits, 
that their present demands and apparent needs are no 
criterion of their possibilities. 

I do not advocate a reform by arbitrary methods. I do 
not believe that character is determined by diet, but diet 
by character. I wish to reform the man, and then let 
him reform his diet. When higher ideals have taken 
possession of the mind, when the soul loves purity so 
much that impurity and uncleanness in food have become 
offensive, then a reform is instituted which will be last- 
ing. But to eat from prescription, to weigh and analyze 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 167 

one's food, to feed by rule, I Avould not sanction. Do 
not imagine that I care what you eat, so long as you, the 
eater, are the same. You convert all food into yourself. 
If you are impure, you will extract impurity from the 
fairest fruits, as the bee extracts its poison from the 
flower. If you are sensual, all food will nourish your 
sensuality. If you are pure enough, you may eat pork, 
and not become swinish ; but I think you will have to 
eat with your eyes closed and your conscience asleep. I 
speak of the qualities of food merely that you may know 
that there is a food as pure as your highest aspiration ; a 
food on which your soul's best faculties may feed. By 
turning your thought to the subject you are benefited, 
whatever food you eat ; for you become purer by com- 
munion with Purity. 

THE LIFE OF PEACE. 

Aug. 9. — To-day I am on a beach about two miles 
from Avalon. The sea is calm, scarcely a ripple disturb- 
ing the smoothness of its surface. The glorious sunshine 
pours over all, filling the whole earth Avith splendor. 
Great masses of clouds hang in the eastern horizon, tinted 
to a rosy hue, betokening a hot day on the mainland. 
Two large yachts are drifting by, their sails scarce filled 
by the lazy breeze. E-ow-boats with merry crews glide 
along, ravens are sailing overhead, croaking hoarsely, and 
occasionally I see a flock of gulls in graceful flight, mak- 
ing a sort of squeaking noise, as if the hinges of their 
wings were in need of oil. The tide is coming in, and 
rushes purling among the rocks, advancing with each 
wave a little farther on the shore. Altogether it is such 
a day as should restore the human soul to its universal 
relations, and bring it into harmony with the Divine, 
All-Perfect Life. The spirit of Peace, which broods over 
the sea and over the golden hills, possesses me utterly, 
and fills me with a celestial joy. I dismiss the perplexi- 



168 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

ties of the world, the desire for earthly riches, and am 
made rich in the soul's treasure, which moth and rust do 
not corrupt nor thieves break through and steal. 

It seems to me that human life should be attuned to 
this sweet harmony which sounds in the purling music 
of the waves. Why should we worry and fret, and heat 
our blood with care ? Is not life a holiday, and happiness 
its end ? For what else was this beautiful world created, 
with its lakes and rivers, its seas and islands ? I would 
be as happy and free as the sea-birds which sail over the 
blue waters and habit among the rocks. "Why should I 
fret my soul with self-imposed tasks, the only reward of 
which is the plaudits of my neighbors ? Give me simple 
food, a shelter from inclement weather, and clothing to 
cover my body, and what else do I need for happiness ? 
I have learned that peace and happiness increase as my 
worldly possessions decrease. I would be free to follow 
the soul's leadings, for that way lies the divinest and 
most happy life. To be at peace with the world, to com- 
mune with Truth and Beauty, to breathe the divinest 
air, this is the soul's native right, and I would not sell it 
for any mess of the world's pottage. 

I have moments when it seems to me that merely to 
live is the divinest privilege ; to breathe the sweet air, to 
bask in the sunshine, to look on the beautiful world about 
me, seems then a joy the gods might envy. I do not ask 
for heaven ; I ask only that I may worthily live on earth. 
With health and contentment, no man need be beholden 
to the world of conventional society. Let me live in a 
hut, which my own hands have built and beautified ; eat 
the fruits and nuts of the earth, fresh from nature's 
bounteous storehouse ; have a few books and a few wise 
friends, and I will spurn the luxuries of an emperor. It 
is in our own mind that riches must be sought, and in our 
own mind that evils must be banished. I am a world 
unto myself. The soul builds her own sphere. Out of 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 169 

lier own infinite resources she furnishes it, and peoples 
it. All things wait for admission to that world. As I 
invite them, they enter, and are mine. As wisdom 
unfolds in me, as beauty opens my eyes, as good warms 
my heart, my world grows larger and finer ; and when I 
can say " I am one with the All-in-All," then is my world 
a paradise, and I a god. 

THE TRUE FEEEDOM. 

For the past few years I have been as earnest to re- 
duce my possessions as most persons are to increase 
theirs. I realize that the only contentment lies in free- 
dom from the world's goods. To earn and maintain such 
an establishment as most men deem necessary would 
make my life a slavery from which nothing but death 
could release me. I cannot find my pleasure in the 
ways of the world, but in ways exactly the opposite. I 
am bound outward, away from the things of the earth, 
while the ships which I have spoken are all bound 
toward them. How shall I find company when such is 
the case ? I would flee unto the Avilderness, there to 
commune with the Spirit which made and preserves it, 
fresh as in the morning of creation. There habits peace, 
and rest from the turmoil of the world. The ends I 
would strive for are peace, content, and a life in harmony 
with the Divine Laws. I do not care for the applause 
of the world, I do not care much for its good opinion. 
I care very much for the approval of my own conscience, 
however, and to get that I have often been obliged to 
ignore the opinion of my neighbors. To simplify my 
life until I am free to live after my highest intuitions, 
to make it so pure and cleanly that I may be worthy to 
entertain thoughts of truth, this is my highest ambition. 
I am not regardless of the effect of my life upon others, 
and nothing is farther from my thoughts than a selfish 
existence whereof the fruit falls to the ground untasted 
by other men. But I know that my highest usefulness 



170 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

to my fellow-men will come from perfect loyalty to my 
highest perceptions of right and truth. I cannot serve 
man by ignoring God. My good Genius is constantly 
leading me closer to the divine laws, and showing me 
their beauty, and charming me to follow them. I can- 
not ignore these divine leadings for any alleged duty to 
my neighbors. Shall I leave gazing at the stars to look 
on some rushlight which my neighbors are pleased in ? 

HABITATION. 

Man is the only animal that makes a habitation much 
larger than his own body. The nest of the bird fits the 
bird, the burrow or den of the animal has a definite rela- 
tion to the size of the animal. But man seems to think 
that he must wall and roof in a quarter section of land, 
before he is housed. Why not have the earth for our 
house, and domesticate it not by enclosing it with brick 
or lumber, but by bringing ourself into vital sympathy 
with Nature ? The sky is an excellent roof, if you are 
in love with its blue and its floating clouds, or its clus- 
tered stars at night. The earth is my garden. The spirit 
of Life is my gardener, who keeps it filled with the most 
beautiful trees and flowers and grass. I find a wondrous 
aquarium in the sea, whose clear, blue waters are filled 
with varied forms of life. The birds and squirrels are 
my pets, free to go and come when they please. To cage 
them would rob them of all interest to me. I cannot 
find pleasure in what causes pain to any creature. Free- 
dom for me must be based on freedom for every creature 
in any way related to my life. You put me in prison 
when you cage my pets. You lacerate my heart when 
you wound or kill them. 

In my little lodge, only seven feet square, its walls 
builded of old weather-beaten boards, its roof of canvas ; 
its furniture a bunk and small table built of boards, and 
a box for a seat ; in this humble habitation, I say, which 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 171 

most poor people would refuse to live in, I find the 
largest freedom and joy; for my soul has the world it- 
self for a home, and infinite space for elbow room. A 
house, even the largest, is small and poor, if you live in 
that only. But a hut, a cave in the rocks, is a mansion, 
when you expand intellectually to the world's limits. 
Yes, I have a very large house, for it is as high as the 
sky, as wide as the world, and furnished with nature's 
best. And I live alone in my house, and am not troubled 
with callers. There are many people breathing the same 
air, treading the same dirt, with me; but they do not 
live in the same world, and are not of my household. 
In some rooms of my house I have dear friends, but we 
do not trespass upon each other. We respect the sacred 
solitude that should ensphere every human soul. I find 
that as my house contracts, my world grows larger. The 
farther I go from civilization, the nearer I come to na- 
ture : and nature is infinite, inviting the soul to expand 
to her own dimensions. 

I find that even a smaller house would be adequate to 
my needs. If I might have the conditions which I would 
like, my house should be but little larger than my body. 
It should be merely a sort of great-coat, to be put on in 
cold or stormy weather. I cannot understand why we 
should wear a coat so much too large for our needs. I 
prefer to clothe myself with air and sunshine. I wear 
the summer sky for a hat, and it is none too large. 

For a chamber I like a cozy place under a cluster of 
shrubs, where the night-winds may whisper to me through 
all my dreams, and where I may see the stars above me 
in every waking moment. Beautiful Night ! How I do 
love thee ! And shall I shut thee out of my house, with 
thy star-spangled drapery, thy lustrous eyes, thy hair of 
trailing clouds ? Shall I not rather invite thee as my 
best-beloved, my bride, and prepare a holy chamber for 
thee, where thou mayst visit me ? Dark-haired one, 



172 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

with moonlighted brow, and eyes of starbeams, how 
shall I sing thy praise ? I cannot sing of thee, my song 
is not worthy. Let me love thee, and adore thee, and 
make myself worthy that thou shouldst visit me. Let 
me drape my couch with nothing heavier than the thin 
night-mists, and enclose it with only the leaves of trees, 
that thou mayst find ready entrance to it, and visit me 
in my slumbers, and kiss my brow with thy cool lips, and 
caress my hair with thy delicate fingers, and whisper to 
me thy secrets, kept from the ears of day. 

And thou, fair Morning, how shall I be pure enough to 
look on thee ? Thy countenance is rosy with the blush 
of health. Thou fair Spirit of the east, I would be 
worthy to look on thy radiant form, as thou risest from 
thy cloud-draped bed, and standest gazing on the earth, 
calling thy children in grove and meadow to waken to 
another day. Thou enchantress of the eastern sky, wav- 
ing thy wand of sun-rays, working such miracles of trans- 
formation ! Glowing clouds, bars of golden light, shifting 
colors of the rainbow, these are thy elements, Spirit of 
the eastern sky, with which thou dost enchant my soul. 
And shall I put a wall between thee and me, so that I can 
never look upon thy beauteous face ? I would rise with 
thee, fair Spirit, and fill my soul with the glory which 
thou dost shed abroad upon the earth. 1 would begin 
my day as gloriously as thou dost begin it, and with the 
memory of thy beauty and purity I would sanctify each 
hour thereof, and make it holy. 

THE SPIEIT OF THE SEA. 
Aug. 12. — Sitting by the breaking waves, my ears 
filled with their sweet music, I seem to commune with 
that beautiful Spirit, the Spirit of the Sea. I feel her 
mystic presence, and I hear the murmur of her voice. 
She is fairer than the human heart hath dreamed. 
Moonlight, starbeams, the glow of morning skies, these 
are her companions ; and from them she borrowed colors 



PAGES FROM A CATALINA JOURNAL. 173 

to tint the chambered shell and paint the myriad fishes 
of the deep. She hath her special world, a world un- 
known to mortals dwelling on the land. Her caves and 
grottoes are bejeweled with such gems as never decked 
the crown of king or queen. The angels visit her, to 
borrow jewels for their brightest crowns; and of her 
wave-swept sands they learn to chant their purest melo- 
dies of joy. Ocean Spirit, be my bride, and let me 
woo thee with my purest love. Thy tresses of the dark 
sea-weed, thine eyes of jewels, lighted by the stars, thy 
teeth of whitened pebbles, and thy purling laughter, 
rippling from thy parted lips, as o'er the beach thy curl- 
ing waves retreat ; these do I love, fair Spirit of the Sea, 
and fain, would call thee sweetheart, lover, bride. 

Fair Spirit of the Sea, 

Wilt thou my sweetheart be, 

And give me leave to woo thee, 

Gentle Spirit of the Sea ? 

I'll dedicate to thee, 

My Sweetheart of the Sea, 

My purest, noblest thoughts, 

My highest minstrelsy. 

Of thee I'll ever sing, 

And unto thee I'll bring 
, My treasures of the soul ; 
'And where thy billows roll 

I'll build an altar pile 

Whereon to lay the gifts 

That are most dear to thee, 

Sweet Spirit of the Sea; 

For thou art fair and pure, 

My Sweetheart of the Sea, 

And dost my heart allure, 

And draw me after thee, 

To worship at thj^ feet, 

My Goddess of the Sea, 

cast me not away, 

My Sweetheart of the Sea, 

And all my life I'll strive 

To worthily love thee. 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK 
JOURNAL. 



3>»:c 



INTO THE WILDEENESS. 
Leaving Boston the last of June, 1892, I spent two 
months camping in the great Adirondack wilderness. I 
did not go to the Adirondacks to hunt and fish, though it 
is a good region for such sport. I went for rest and 
recreation, and to learn what lessons I might from the 
teaching of wild Nature. I believe that as man is the 
child of Nature, he should be on more intimate terms than 
most of us are with his good Mother. I will ask the 
reader to go with me through some of the scenes of this 
great wilderness, hoping that we may find a way of the 
Lord therein; a way of truth and higher life; walking 
wherein, we shall see somewhat else than mountains and 
streams and wild forests ; somewhat more beautiful than 
summer skies and moonlighted mountain lakes ; for Truth 
and Beauty outshine all physical forms of them, and the 
soul's highest visions come not through the physical eye, 
but through her own deep insight and apprehension. 
Let us go to the wilderness as the Hebrew prophets of 
old went thither ; to worship the Spirit that hath its 
altars there ; altars of unhewn stone, upon which no tool 
has been lifted up to defile them. 

CHATEAUGAY CHASM. 
Arriving at Chateaugay station, after a day's pleasant 
journey, we take stage for the Chasm House, that we may 

174 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 175 

tarry a day or so amid the wonders of Chateaugay chasm. 
Here our real journey begins, though not amid the rudest 
scenes of the wilderness ; for Chateaugay is a center of 
civilization, a village of eight or ten hundred population. 
Taking lodging at the hotel, with some protest against its 
features of civilization and conventional living, wishing 
that we were to be lodged in some bark hut instead, we 
will rest ourselves and make ready to explore the mighty 
chasm. 

Chateaugay chasm is a most remarkable fissure in the 
earth, over one hundred feet in depth, and perhaps half a 
mile in extent. Its sides are precipitous, but well clothed 
with vegetation. Between its rugged walls a mountain 
stream, the outlet of the Chateaugay lakes, boils and 
roars over its rocky bed. The veil of rising mist clothes 
the rugged rock-giants, in their sculptured niches, with a 
delicate drapery of rainbow tints ; and the mingling music 
of this mighty organ makes a fitting overture to the 
scene. AVhat mighty power cleft this mountain wall and 
let this wild stream pour its waters through the opening ? 
Was it some Thor, with mighty hammer, who, hearing 
the lamentations of the imprisoned waters, smote the 
prison door and bade the waters speed away to the dis- 
tant sea ? This stream, like the human soul, yearned to 
return to the great Sea from which it came ; it beat 
against its prison bars, and at last found glad release ; 
and now its song of joy and thanksgiving rises in min- 
gling echoes to greet the soul with a prophecy of glad 
release from the rock-bound prison of Life ; release and 
glad return to that Sea of Eternal Being from which it 
came like a vapor hither to the fields of Time. 

CHATEAUGAY LAKES. 

Leaving the mingling echoes and awe-inspiring scenes 
of Chateaugay chasm, we take stage for Chateaugay lakes. 
A ride of four miles brings us to the landing on the 



176 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

lower lake, where a small steamer awaits us, to convey 
us to the upper lake. We steam through the narrow 
channel and come out upon the broad surface of the lake. 
The shores are wild, and unbroken save by an occasional 
summer camp. Soon we are in the winding channel 
which connects the lower with the upper lake. We pass 
a group of charcoal ovens, from which rise clouds of dense 
smoke, the spirits of slaughtered trees, sacrificed to the 
iron industry on Lyon Mountain. They ascend to heaven, 
and before the Divine Throne they accuse the greed of 
man, which is stripping these grand mountains of their 
forests and leaving death and desolation in the place of 
life and beauty. 

As we glide out upon the rippling waters of Upper 
Chateaugay, blue mountains rise grandly in the southern 
horizon. The rugged shores are broken here and there 
by a clearing, where some lover of wild nature has built 
a summer camp. Two hotels at the lower end of the 
lake, and a primitive place of entertainment at the upper 
end, serve the needs of the tourist or fisherman. Wish- 
ing to get as far as possible from all traces of civilization, 
I went to the Indian Point house, where I remained 
several days, exploring the lake and making views. The 
Chateaugay lakes have been very little tainted by civili- 
zation. The shores are chiefly tangled wilderness, where 
the deer roams in unrestricted freedom. Trails, narrow, 
rough, and muddy, lead through the wilderness to vari- 
ous fishing and hunting grounds. The loon haunts the 
lonely shores, and raises her wild cry in mocking protest 
against the incoming reign of man. In many places 
along the shores stand the skeletons of forest giants, in 
the water up to their knees, raising their whitened arms 
to heaven in mute supplication. The lake rising about 
their roots has killed them, and their bleached trunks 
make the lonely scene doubly desolate. Many of them 
have fallen prostrate, and their limbs look, under the 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 177 

rippling water, like huge white serpents, ready to coil 
themselves about the rash invader of their haunts. When 
the lake is quiet the blue mountains are imaged upon its 
surface in unspeakable beauty. It seemed to me that the 
very trees were conscious, and that they gazed with pride 
upon their noble forms, reflected in that crystal mirror. 
Strong and beautiful, their leaves are never corrupted by 
the smoke and dust of civilization. Their arms, out- 
stretched to the blue heavens, are not yet paralyzed by 
the touch of the electric wire. Their foliage makes a 
covert for the squirrel and wild bird, and echoes only 
the sounds of nature's wild, free life. They seemed to 
greet me as an ancient comrade, returned from some 
long journey. They did not ask me of the world I had 
left. They seemed not curious concerning that, but 
highly satisfied with their own pure, sweet life. They 
breathed an atmosphere of health and quiet joy upon me, 
and I grew strong in their serene presence. Let the sick 
in mind or body flee unto them, in preference to all other 
physicians. They are the physicians of nature, tender, 
loving, and of infinite good spirits. 

In the early morning what a fine joy there is in rowing 
your light boat upon the still waters of the lake ! The 
air is sweet and pure, and silence reigns everywhere, 
broken only by the note of some wild bird. Nature 
seems holding her breath, in anticipation of the advent 
of a new day. The coming of Aurora, clothed in rosy 
light, is not heralded here by the rattle of carts on stone- 
paved streets. The wheels of the chariot of day make 
no noise on their airy road. Birds begin to sing, the 
waters of the lake are stirred as by a whiff of wind from 
the sweep of Aurora's garment, and a new day is with us. 
The fisherman is at his buoy, fishing for trout. He has 
cast in many bits of food, day after day, and now, when 
the trout have learned to come to this point to feed, he 
slips a hook into a bit of flesh, and the trout are betrayed. 



178 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

Alas, that seeming generosity should so often conceal the 
hook of selfishness! But trout and men must learn to 
look before they bite ! 

Yonder is Pine Lodge, nestling among odorous pines, 
with the forest-clad mountains for a background. It is 
built upon a small island, scarce large enough to afford a 
landing-place after the buildings were erected. But on 
that small spot of land, surrounded not alone with water, 
but with a peace and quiet never found in the midst of a 
fashionable resort, some lover of nature spends his sum- 
mer days of rest, communing with the wild, sweet beau- 
ties that environ his humble habitation. The day here 
is full of peace, and the hours glide smoothly, with no 
jar of worldly care, toward a peaceful evening. When 
the day is done, and the occupant of this lodge has 
returned from some hunting or fishing trip, or perhaps 
from more innocent ventures, in search of beauty, or 
from some pilgrimage to the shrine of a mountain deity, 
he pauses in his light boat, and lets it rest awhile on the 
quiet surface of the lake, and watches the sky grow ruddy 
in the west. The shadows of the mountains and the pines 
fall upon still waters. The retiring Day-god beholds his 
ruddy face in the watery mirror. Out of the deep 
shadows the cry of a loon is heard, and then distant 
echoes answering it. We do not know what sunset is 
until we see it in a setting of nature's own handiwork. 
The sun does not rightly set behind brick buildings. He 
seems to slink behind them in shame that men should 
build such things to mar the face of nature. But how 
gladly and how fairly does he sink to rest behind the 
forest-clad hills! Birds sing his vespers, the sweet, 
unpolluted breath of heaven fans his hot face, and he 
sleeps in his rosy-curtained bed, leaving his fair sister 
Luna, with her attendant stars, to watch over the world 
in his absence. 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 179 



SARANAC AND LAKE PLACID. 

After a few days of delightful experience at Lidian 
Point, the very name of which had recommended the 
place to me, I made preparation for departure to points 
farther south. A row-boat was placed at my service, and 
my baggage was taken in another by a guide. In this 
fashion we departed, rowing across the lake in the face 
of a stiff breeze, and, after an hour of hard pulling, 
reached Merrill's in time for dinner. Thence I took 
stage for Lyon Mountain, a station on the Chateaugay 
railroad, and embarked for Saranac. Saranac is a vil- 
lage of considerable proportions, which, however, had no 
charms for me, as I was trying to leave all villages and 
get into the woods. Here I took stage for Lake Placid, 
about nine miles away. The vehicle was a Concord 
wagon drawn by six horses. I took a seat on top where 
I could enjoy the fresh air and have a view of the coun- 
try through which we passed. The road was rough and 
the great vehicle rocked and swayed like a ship in a 
heavy sea. After a- ride of about three hours, through a 
wild country, our road-ship, with its load of passengers 
well shaken, reached Mirror Lake. 

Mirror Lake is Avell called the gem of the Adirondacks. 
It lies like a great shield of silver, its surface seldom 
ruffled by winds. Across the southern horizon stretches 
a range of mighty peaks, dim and blue in the distance. 
No picture could possibly suggest the spiritual beauty of 
the scene which greets the observer's eye in the morning, 
when the lake lies there like Aurora's mirror, reflecting 
the blue forms of the distant mountains. Mirror Lake 
and Lake Placid are divided by a narrow strip of high 
la,nd, on which are situated a number of fine hotels and 
cottages. From the summit you have a view of Lake 
Placid with Old AVhitef ace in the distance ; a noble peak, 
standing in solitary grandeur, its head scarred by the 
storms of many centuries. 



180 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM. ABOVE. 



THE TENT UNDER THE PINES. 

Procuring a light "guide-boat," I set out to explore 
the shores of Lake Placid, to find a site for my camp, 
sufficiently removed from civilization to give me the 
solitude I wished for. The lake is about five miles in 
length, and I explored its shores and islands thoroughly, 
at last deciding upon a beautiful point known as Fish 
Rock, on the southeast shore. I had my camp outfit and 
baggage transferred from the cottage, where I had secured 
temporary lodgings, to the boat landing, whence I took 
it by row-boat to Fish Eock. A rain storm compelled me 
to stay at the cottage Friday and Saturday. 

Sunday morning dawned bright and clear, and I awoke 
at 5.30, impatient to be in the woods. I rose, and steal- 
ing softly out of the house made my way to the boat 
landing, where I took my boat for camp. I had left all 
my Sunday clothes at home, and so was safe from any 
temptation to attend church or any other place of social 
concourse. I came to camp out, and live with nature 
instead of man; and I have never noticed that the birds 
and squirrels pay any heed to a man^s clothing. It is 
only among men that we are ranked by our fur or feathers. 
I think that I shall lose no caste among the pines and fir 
trees by wearing old trousers and a flannel shirt. I notice 
that these trees around me wear the same coat from year 
to year. They do not change their raiment at the bid- 
ding of any tree in Paris or New York. 

And so I started about six in the morning, on the Lord's 
day, for camp, my mind busy with plans for m}' lodge. 
The morning was quiet and lovely, and the lake looked 
like a great mirror for goddess Aurora to make her toilet 
by. The mountains cast their blue images on the lake, 
and the azure sky was created anew on the placid surface. 
I rowed along the shore, taking in as I went any stray 
boards that were floating about, to be used in making my 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 181 

tent floor. In about an hour I readied camp, with a good 
load of himber. 

First, after landing my lumber, I got breakfast. ^ That 
was my passover or Lord's breakfast, eaten religiously 
under the shade of the forest trees, a fit sacrament for the 
beginning of the Lord's day in the woods. Then I set 
about procuring the foundation for my house. Certain 
cedars, not so large, but fully as beautiful as the cedars 
of Lebanon, furnished the sills. Upon these I made a 
floor, ten feet square, of the driftwood which I had 
picked up. Then I erected my tent, and moved my 
possessions into it. It stands among the trees on a ledge 
of rock, perhaps fifteen feet above the level of the water, 
commanding a fine view of the lake and surrounding 
mountains. ° On Monday I went to the village and bought 
twelve yards of bed ticking, and made a fly for the tent, 
which makes my house as impervious to rain as a roof of 
shingles. My bed is a small tick filled with straw, and 
my bedding a number of blankets which have seen service 
in the Eocky Mountains and in the mountains of North 
Carolina. My camp stove has accompanied the blankets 
in their travels, and does as good service as ever. My 
diet is chiefly camp bread, made of graham flour and corn 
meal, with apple sauce made of dried apples. 

WILD VOICES. 
July i4. — Last night, soon after I had retired to my 
bunk, I was startled by the wild cry of a loon just back 
of my camp. She sounded her cry many times, on the 
still air, and it seemed to me that every cove on the lake 
was listening and echoing the weird sound. The ram 
was pattering on the roof of my tent, and out of the 
mystefioLis depths of the forest came faint sounds, the 
souo-hing of the wind through the branches, the chirpmg 
of insects; and from the lake the sound of lappmg 
waves ; and above it all the shrill cry of the loon rose, 



182 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

like the wail of some troubled spirit. After a few 
moments of silence I heard it again, from a farther shore, 
and then another, in a higher key, answering it. As I 
listened to these sounds of wild nature, I thought they 
were sweeter to my ears than any sounds I had ever 
heard in town or city. There is such a vigor and fullness 
of life in these sounds of forest creatures, that human 
voices seem dull and tame in comparison. It is seldom 
I hear a human voice that has in it anything of that wild 
vigor and freshness. We are tamed and subdued, and 
our voices betray our condition. I want that vigor in 
man which is in every other creature. The crow's harsh 
note is musical to me, because it is so wild and free, and 
wakes in me that wildness for lack of which we are a 
race of invalids. 

Several evenings I have rowed to my camp from the 
settlement after dark. The lake in the evening, when 
the full moon floods it with soft light, is very beautiful. 
The great mountains seem very near, and mystery shrouds 
them. In the early morning the lake is a dream of beauty. 
Before the wind has ruffled it, and while the soft shadows 
still linger upon its surface, it is more beautiful than I 
have ever dreamed an earthly scene could be. The 
song of birds in the forest, and the chatter of squirrels, 
fitly celebrate the dawning of day upon such a scene of 
loveliness. 

A METAPHYSICAL SMUDGE. 

When the mosquitoes and gnats are troublesome I 
make a smudge of chips and leaves, and sit enveloped in 
the drapery of the smoke. That is an airy armor which 
is proof against all insect weapons. They cannot face 
that vapor, but content themselves with sounding their 
trumpet valiantly from, afar. So delicate and intangible 
often are our defenses against other enemies. Who 
knows what pestiferous people are kept at a respectful 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 183 

distance by a certain atmosphere of reserve with which 
the sensitive man envelops himself ? When I hear the 
buzz and hum of some human insect who is approaching 
to sting and bite me with his gossip and nonsense, I make 
a smudge of dignified silence, and, surrounded by that 
as by an invisible vapor, I sit secure against attack. He 
may buzz from afar, but he cannot reach my ear with his 
little bill. 

But it is not alone enemies that are kept away by these 
vapors of thought with which we consciously or uncon- 
sciously surround ourselves. I doubt not that the angels 
of heaven are kept away from us by the atmosphere of 
earthliness which most of us generate out of our life and 
thus surround ourselves with. They cannot come near 
us because of the thick smoke of selfishness and materi- 
ality. If we would but refine our atmosphere, and make 
it by pure thought and aspiration like the rosy air of 
morning, fragrant with love and adoration, we might be 
visited by holy ones of the higher life, whose presence 
would comfort and strengthen us in hours of sadness or 
gloom. We cannot expect angels to push their way into 
the heavy atmosphere of a merely animal life. Let us 
make our life spiritual and surround ourselves with an 
atmosphere of light, and angels shall often visit us. 

MAN A STRANGER IN NATURE. 
July 15. — As I rowed to my camp from the settle- 
ment last night about ten o'clock, I was conscious of a 
certain shrinking fear, as of some indefinable danger ; and 
I knew that for once I was contemplating nature from 
the standpoint of the civilized man, to whom all places 
not made familiar by long association with men are wild 
and forbidding. I was bringing with me on my trip to 
the woods a certain atmosphere of conventional life, from 
the cottage where I had been spending a part of the 
evening ; and through this atmosphere, as a distorting 



184 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

glass, nature did not appear as usual to me. I marveled, 
as I rowed over the smooth surface of the lake, sur- 
rounded by the great shadows of the mountains, why 
any portion of nature should ever seem strange or un- 
canny to any man. Are we not great nature's children ? 
Why should we contemplate any scene, however wild or 
strange, with a sense different from that of the wild 
bird ? Does the loon that wakes the nightly echoes with 
her wild cry feel any fear of dark or strange places ? 
Do the squirrels shrink from climbing any hitherto un- 
known tree until they have been introduced to it by some 
old resident ? Alas ! that nature should not always be 
familiar and inviting to every man. We have indeed 
become estranged, so that we go into the woods as into 
some demon's land, where terrible monsters are like to 
snatch us. How and when did Man become a stranger 
to his loving Mother ? How did he prodigal-like leave 
his Father's house to riot and revel and waste his sub- 
stance in this false civilization ? 

VACATION METHODS. 
When- I see in what manner people spend their vaca- 
tion season I am convinced that most men have forgotten 
how to live with nature. They go to a lake or moun- 
tain, and then spend the greater portion of their time 
dozing on some piazza, or reading idle books whose sole 
use is to make the reader oblivious of self and surround- 
ings : as if, forsooth, summer were of all times a season 
for intellectual and spiritual suicide. It should be a 
season for regeneration, a time for moulting, or casting 
the old skin, and putting on the new. In summer many 
people return for a time to the poetic life which once 
was man's ; and which might again be his, if he had the 
genius to subjugate this complex cunning civilization, 
and make it serve him, instead of becoming the slave of 
it. Our civilization should make men not less but more 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 185 

poetical in their life. It should lift men above barbarism, 
not drag them below it. At present we live for the most 
part mean and degraded lives, because we have lost those 
poetic elements which our barbaric ancestors had, and 
have not found any new ones to take the place of them. 
We return once in a great while, once in a year perhaps, 
to hunting or fishing, and so are put in touch with those 
elements Avhich develop the poetic faculty ; the clouds, 
rivers, lakes, mountains, forests. But for the rest of the 
year we immerse ourselves in business and habits of liv- 
ing which leave our better and finer part untouched. 
We live so meanly during eleven months that when the 
one month of outing comes we are dulled and calloused 
so that nature does not touch us to worship and adora- 
tion, as it should touch each one of us. Our civilization 
should array itself in the beauty and purity of the moun- 
tains and lakes and fields. The SAveet breath of the pines 
should circulate through our city streets, and birds should 
sing before every door and window. Then should we be 
a race of poets, and not slaves. 

STOEM-MUSIC. 

July 16. — Last night, soon after I had gone to sleep, 
the powers of the wind were loosed, and the lake was 
lashed into foam ; while the harp of the forest, with its 
thousand leafy strings, played wild, tempestuous music. 
The evening had been quiet and sultry, and the sun had 
set among threatening clouds. I had left the front of 
my tent open, for ventilation, after making a smudge to 
drive away mosquitoes. When I was awakened by the 
roar of the wind and the dashing of the waves against 
the rock on which my house is builded, I was at first 
filled with a sense of vague terror. So dreadful is that 
danger which we cannot see and which we are powerless 
to avert, that perhaps every man, savage or civilized, 
sometimes feels terror at the display of nature's destruc- 



186 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

tive energies. I arose and made all secure against the 
storm, and then sought again my couch. I lay for some 
time listening to the wild music of the wind, imagining 
myself in some snug schooner, safely anchored, riding 
out the storm with her breast valiantly fronted to the 
waves. The dashing of the waves and the flapping of 
my canvas helped the illusion until it was nearly real. 
Then, remarking to myself that the storm could very well 
go on without further attention on my part, I sank into 
sleep. When I awoke this morning the wind was still 
howling, and the sky was heavy with clouds. A fine rain 
was falling, or rather driving before the wind, and the 
lake looked sullen and ugly. But my good ship was still 
riding the waves, safely anchored, and no canvas lost. 

TIME-PHILOSOPHY. 
This morning I found that my watch had stopped, a 
little after midnight. The little creature, born of the 
cunning brain of man, whose heart had beat so compan- 
ionably against my own, had become weary after many 
years of life's experience, and its pulse was still. Doubt- 
less some tinker will work a miracle of resuscitation, but 
my own efforts to revive its life have been thus far 
unavailing. When I found that I was without a chro- 
nometer, I realized my solitude. Without any means of 
calculating time (for the sky was overcast, so that the 
sun, man's first and most regular timepiece, which never 
runs down or needs repairing, was of no avail to me) I 
felt that I had indeed returned to a natural mode of life. 
Nothing so connects a man with the rest of the world as 
a clock or watch. He may be beyond the reach of mail 
or telegraph, railroad train or newspaper ; but if he has 
a watch in his pocket, he keeps step in the march of civ- 
ilization. He rises, eats, sleeps, works, thinks by the 
chronometer. His relation to eternity is indicated by 
this little piece of mechanism ; for every time he looks 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 187 

at its face he says to liiinself, " Thus far have I gone on 
the road of life; drive a stake here." The clock has 
made our whole life mechanical and unnatural. Instead 
of going to bed when we are sleepy and rising when we 
are not, ^ve reverse this natural order, and invoke 
Morpheus or exorcise him at the dictation of the clock. 
Chronos has thus been set over all the other gods ; and 
every knee bends to him. We should eat when we are 
hungry, and refrain when we are not ; but instead, when 
the hand reaches a certain jnark on the dial, we say, " It 
is time to eat " ; and nature in us must hurry up her 
processes and get ready her apparatus of digestion, to 
wait on this little tyrant, who wields the scepter and 
speaks in the name of great Chronos. When our aim 
should be to do a certain thing well, we try rather to do 
it before a certain time ; and our character suffers loss, 
that we may be loyal to the clock. Instead of " Watch 
and pray " our motto seems to be " Pray by the watch " : 
set aside so many minutes of our precious time to wor- 
ship God in ; robbing Chronos to pay Zeus. 

The calendar is only another form of clock, by which 
we know the particular hour in the year. " This is Sun- 
day, according to this calendar; therefore I will go to 
church, and pay my respects to God. On Monday I will 
begin again my service of the devil." So do we divide 
our life into seconds and minutes and hours and days, 
making some secular and some sacred, — though to what 
god we make them sacred I dare not say, — and our life 
consists of hours rather than deeds. That which was at 
first merely a convenience has become a necessity. The 
servant has become a most tyrannous master, and we all 
willingly wear his chain. Our hearts themselves have 
become mere clocks, beating the seconds of eternity; 
rather than organs of the divine life, throbbing with love 
and benevolence. I did not realize how fallen is man 
until I was compelled to spend one day without a time- 



188 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

piece. So great is the contrast between a day so spent 
and tlie day as we usually pass it, with one eye fastened 
on the dial, while with the other we give indifferent atten- 
tion to the task we are performing, that I had almost said 
"Henceforth I will never look upon a dial again. '^ I 
shall certainly henceforth be less a slave, and wear my 
watch without a chain. If the chain were used to fasten 
the watch to the man, it would not be so objectionable ; 
but my observation has been that it always fastens the 
man to the watch. He goes about chained to that little 
tyrant, like any galley slave to his ship ; and through all 
his speech and actions I can hear the tick of the watch 
and the clank of the chain. Let us cut loose, broth- 
ers, and serve Zeus rather than Chronos. Let us live 
free and untrammeled, and try not how soon, but how 
well and truly we may do each task. 

PROVIDENCE AND TKUST. 

My writing to-day is punctuated with marks not recog- 
nized as legitimate by any authority that I have seen. I 
make a few strokes with the pen, and then I make a few 
with the axe, which is not so mighty a weapon, but one 
more necessary to camp life. I have set up my stove in 
my tent, and am obliged to occasionally neglect the fires 
of thought, and let them flicker for a time, in the inter- 
ests of the fire in my stove. If I were more provident, 
I should have a pile of dry wood chopped and split, 
against a cold and rainy day. But I have split so much 
wood in my life which I never found occasion to burn 
that I am getting to be skeptical of the old proverbs of 
prudence. We lay up fuel for a cold season, and the 
cold season never comes. Then we wish we had done 
something more profitable. I have always been exhorted 
to lay up something for a rainy day. But I have noticed 
that people who spend their pleasant days laying up 
something for a rainy day get little profit out of life. It 



LEAVES FEOM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 189 

is a continual chopping and sawing, and when they die, 
they leave behind nothing but a great pile of dry wood 
for others to quarrel over. I would rather run some risk 
of shivering on some distant cold day, than to waste my 
pleasant days chopping wood. Most people act as if they 
were expecting nothing but rainy days, and are always 
trembling lest they shall have nothing laid up for them. 
And so every day is darkened by the clouds of the future, 
and so the sunshine dies out of human life. Why may 
we not trust that loyalty to the present is the best in- 
surance for the future ? I am getting more sweetness 
out of this cold rainy day than I usually do out of pleas- 
ant ones, in spite of the necessity for frequent trips to 
the woodpile. And yet, rainy days are the ones we are 
always worrying about, and using our pleasant days to 
provide against. My tent is snug and warm, and if some 
of my wood is wet, the fire dries it, and it burning in 
turn dries more ; and so prudence and providence fall in 
my estimation. I think there are far higher virtues than 
these. I think trust and faith are higher, and less com- 
mon. That is why I speak as I do. We need to be 
pointed to the things we do not see. We hold some things 
so close that they hide other things far more valuable. 
I perceive that a life is not to be judged by the com- 
monest criterions. The highest success of any life defies 
analysis. It cannot be expressed in material terms. It 
is like the tints of the rainbow, which can never be caught 
and condensed to die wool wdth. There is somewhat so 
beautiful in a life of trust and reliance upon the soul that 
I would exhort every man to seek after it more than after 
gold or precious stones. It distils an atmosphere of calm 
joy which envelops the man like a nimbus, and makes 
him beautiful to all beholders. Men feel when they see 
him that there is stability in somewhat else than granite 
and iron. A certain virtue goes out from him which up- 
lifts those who meet him. They are strengthened by 



190 LIFE AND LIGHT FKOM ABOVE. 

they know not what secret power. If they touch but the 
hem of his garment they are healed. 

UNDER THE STARS. 

Sunday, July 17. — Weather this morning cold and 
rainy, but with my stove in the tent I am very comfort- 
able. I have made my breakfast of blueberries and 
milk, with potatoes, and now I am waiting to see what 
the gods would have me do. Last night I sat up very 
late, I know not until what hour, developing some nega- 
tives. When I had finished I went out upon the rock 
and had a most glorious vision of the northern lights. 
Great sheets of flame rose from the horizon, making the 
heavens glorious, and on the calm surface of the lake the 
picture was repeated in varied splendor. The stillness 
of the night lent impressiveness to the scene, and alone 
under the illumined sky I worshiped and adored as never 
in the midst of a congregation. The soul needs solitude 
for her highest flights into the infinite. The presence of 
men disturbs and distracts. I, alone, worship God, the 
Alone. My camp was a holy tabernacle, where God 
showed himself unto me as unto the Israelites of old. 
I saw the pillar of fire in the heavens, pointing me what 
way I should aspire. Somewhere yonward lies the prom- 
ised land. Just over those mountain tops, dim and 
mysterious under the light of the midnight sky, I shall 
find what I have sought, — what Man has ever sought, 
and but few ever found. The soul ever defers and 
beckons. You shall not have what you wish, but by 
following faithfully you shall have somewhat far more 
lovely. So delicate are the illuminations of the soul, in 
the night watches of her solitary communion ; a sort of 
northern light, shooting up out of immensity to illumine 
her heavens. Thus delicately do visions of a higher life 
break on the soul ; not with flashes of lightning, or bold 
glare of noonday sun, but with a beauty like the lily's 



LEAVES FKOM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 191 

petal, or like tlie first flush of dawn in the east. And it 
behooves man to rise at any time of the night or day to 
catch a glimpse of this in shining Light. I would watch 
nightly, with a vigilance unheard of, to catch the first 
gleam of that Northern Light that shines in upon the 
soul when it is one with the Infinite. No duty, no 
pleasure, should keep me from that privilege. But men 
are commonly so indifferent, that they would rather lie 
abed, or sit gossiping, than go alone to watch the northern 
horizon of the soul where this divine Light glows. we 
live so cheaply, when we might live so grandly ! The 
earth and sea and sky are full of admonitions of man's 
true nature, and yet in the presence of them all he forgets 
it and lives brute-like. 

THE SOUL'S YEAENING FOR WILD NATUEE. 

I THINK that my yearning for the wildness of unknown 
places is a certain instinct of the soul which seeks to 
lead man back to the divine nature from which he sprang. 
The closer we come to nature the nearer we are to God. 
By every step we take out of nature, into a conventional 
and artificial life, we bereave ourselves of God. Nature 
is so beautiful, so sweet, so strong, so pure, that man by 
communion therewith may catch some hint of his own 
possibilities. I hunger for wilder scenes than any I have 
ever found. I am greedy to drink in a freer air than 
any I have yet breathed. I would companion with the 
wildest creatures, for they are the most truly alive. In 
the midst of the death which men call society, I long for 
the life which throbs in wild places. I would hear no 
tamer note than the crow's or fish-hawk's cry. I would 
inhabit a spot never touched by human foot. I think 
that the delicate bloom of nature is rubbed off by the 
first man who visits her. Like the huckleberries that 
come to market, the landscape has lost something delicate 
and indefinable by the presence of men. I would have 



192 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. 

my nature virgin-pure ; and tlien I would woo her as no 
lover before ever did. I would see in the landscape 
something as delicate as the tints of the rainbow. I 
think that the rainbow would lose something if men 
could run over it with a balancing-pole. This is all I 
mean by the fall of Man ; a descent below nature, so that 
he is not worthy to stand in her presence. 

ASCENT OF WHTTEFACE. 

Saturday, July 23. — On Wednesday I climbed White- 
face mountain. Rowing from my camp to the head of 
the lake, about four miles, I found the trail without 
difficulty, and began the ascent about 9.30. The trail 
leads through a dense forest until within a short distance 
of the summit. I crossed noisy brooks, on stepping- 
stones or fallen trees, climbed over, through or under 
timber that lay across the trail, and on the last half mile 
of the* trail clambered over bowlders, sometimes pulling 
myself up by grasping the roots of trees, crossed slippery 
ledges as steep as the roof of a house, where the soil had 
slid down leaving the rock bare ; and, after about three 
hours of climbing, reached the summit, where the mag- 
nificent view well repaid me for the hard climb. My 
eye swept over miles of lake and mountain scenery; 
resting now upon far-off Lake Champlain and the Green 
Mountains of Vermont, and now upon the mighty St. 
Lawrence, lying like a silver thread beneath the shining 
sky away to the northeast; while to the southwest and 
west my mind was overwhelmed with the splendor of 
scores of shining lakes and piled-up mountains, robed in 
the tender beauty of the summer haze. I remained on 
the summit three or four hours, and made the descent 
in about two hours, reaching my camp a little before 
sunset. 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 193 



THE LORD'S DAY IK THE WOODS. 
Sunday, July 24. — The Lord's day, as Christians call 
it, finds me still in the woods. I am lord of the day, so 
far as it concerns me, and so I might call it my day ; but 
as every day in the woods is my day, and none are mort- 
gaged to society, with danger of bankruptcy and fore- 
closure, I know not how I shall make this day better 
than any other, save by a deeper earnestness and a more 
zealous watchfulness. It is easy to go to church and, 
returning, say " I have worshiped to-day " ; but to 
make the day, or any day, holy by greater effort to live 
purely and sweetly, at peace with all men, this is not 
so easy. We seek to go to heaven by easy methods, as 
we do to other fine places. I think I shall worship more 
truly here in the woods than many who go to church ; 
but they will be called Christians, while I shall probably 
soon have the name of Pagan. So much for names, and 
the cheap way in which they are purchased. 

LOST. 
When I was going up W^hiteface trail I came at one 
point to a great bare ledge of rock, which I crossed, sup- 
posing that I should find the trail again on the other 
side. I did not find it, however, but was soon wander- 
ing in the dense forest, and had a hint of what it would 
be to be lost there. I returned to the point where I had 
left the trail, and discovered that it went straight up the 
ledge, at a right angle, instead of across. Then I fell to 
meditating on that word "lost." I think the theological 
use of it is much closer to the real meaning than the 
common one. A man is not lost when he is merely un- 
able to say where a certain village lies, or what path he 
shall take to find it. The village is as much lost as the 
man, in that case. If he does not know where the vil- 
lage is, neither does the village know where he is, and 



194 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. 

SO lie is perhaps better off, not worse. Why should we 
so revolve about a house or a village that we consider our- 
selves lost as soon as we are out of sight of it ? What 
is it that Man revolves about? Is it not rather some 
celestial body, some star of Truth, to which he is related 
by nature, so that ho is lost only when he has lost sight 
of that ? I think that a man is lost when he has for- 
gotten his true nature, that it is divine: and not when 
he merely cannot tell which way to walk to find a cer- 
tain house. In this sense, most of us are lost. How we 
wandered away from the Divine Path, what it was that 
beguiled and blinded us, we do not know. But we are 
certainly lost, and no one seems to be able to recover the 
Way. Many have earnestly sought it, and perhaps 
some few have found it ; but the guide-boards that point 
toward it are many and confusing, and do not seem to 
help us much. I think we need to retrace some steps in 
order to find the Path. It turns a sharp corner and 
goes at a right angle to the way most of us are looking 
and walking. 

CIVILIZATION TEIED BY SOLTTTJDE. 

I SIT here in my tent under the shade of great forest 
trees, the sound of waves washing on the rock coming 
to my ears like the voice of an old comrade, and I con- 
template the busy world as from a distant star; the 
whir and din of busy cities, the scramble and rush for 
wealth and power, the restless search for happiness by 
methods that take men daily farther from what they 
seek ; and I find myself wondering whether this busy 
civilization can ever be converted into the kingdom of 
God. We seem far, very far from it now, and appear to 
be traveling away from instead of toward it on our rail- 
roads and steamships. The messages we send pulsing 
over our telegraph wires convey no information as to the 
character of that higher civilization. We do but the 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 195 

more quickly learn of the brutality of man and his 
selfish barbarism by means of these SAvift couriers. 
Our newspapers are more zealous to publish the evi- 
dences of man's savagery than any occasional evidence 
that he is growing truly civilized. It is worth any 
degree of privation and hardship to be able to separate 
oneself from the world and look at it from an unbiased 
standpoint. I lack the luxuries and even the comforts 
of the world here in the woods, but I am out of its 
atmosphere of conventional life, and so am able to esti- 
mate it much more truly and judge it by the highest 
criterions. Civilization, tried by the test of solitude, 
measured by the beauty and sweetness of mountain and 
lake and forest trees, is found wanting. 

THE WOELD AS AN INK-POT. 
I FIND that the intellect works healthfully upon the 
commonplace facts of every-day life. Our literature is 
chiefly the result of writing rather than thinking, be- 
cause it is for the most part only a recombination of 
writings already existing. I want rather to dig in the 
earth for my tropes and similes ; to pluck my thoughts 
like berries from trees and bushes ; to have my page 
smack of air and sunshine and fresh earth, and reflect 
sometimes the stars of the sky. When a man uses the 
world for an ink-pot, dipping his pen into its lakes and 
rivers, his writing is pure like the fluid he uses. 

A THREE DAYS' TEAMP. 

I HAVE just returned from a three days' tramp through 
Wilmington Notch and the Keene Valley to Ausable 
Lakes, and back by way of Cascade Lakes to the John 
Brown farm. I was much amused by the family where 
I took dinner Monday. The proprietor of the house, 
a rude shanty by the wayside, was sharpening an axe on 
a grindstone when I came along, his wife turning the 



196 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

handle for him. I have noticed that at most small 
houses of entertainment the landlord holds the axe and 
his wife turns the handle of the grindstone. Ragged 
and dirty children tumbled about the floor and crawled 
over the furniture, staring at the stranger, whose tripod, 
with its mysterious box on top, excited much awe as well 
as curiosity. One little fellow sat saucily on top of the 
stove in the one room which served as office, sitting and 
dining room, and parlor. Dinner was prepared speedily, a 
salt fish being brought from a mysterious dark recess, 
furtively, as though the guest should not know what he 
was to eat until it lay before him in all its tempting 
sweetness. The table was set in the middle of the room, 
the children having been cleared away for the purpose. 
I sat alone, in state, and ate my dinner, conversing with 
the hostess and children. The dinner was a very whole- 
some one, with plenty of milk and some berries ; and 
as the house was as open as a pasture, I did not suffer 
from any strange odors which else might have accumu- 
lated. The tramp from that place to Upper Jay was 
very enjoyable, though the sun beat down fiercely upon 
my head. As I walked along the road over the hills, 
picking red raspberries, inhaling great draughts of fresh 
air, and expanding my soul with visions of the lofty 
mountains and far-stretching valleys, it seemed to me 
that I should like always to go on in such a way. I 
would not be a fixed star, but a planet (wanderer), my 
orbit sweeping the known and unknown universe. There 
is a fine joy in becoming one with the tireless and rest- 
less energies of nature. I would fiow Avith the streams, 
float and fly with the high clouds, sweep over field and 
mountain with the changing winds, and stop nowhere 
longer than to take my bearings for fresh expeditions. 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 197 

NATURAL FOOD. 

As I picked and ate the raspberries from the bushes 
by the roadside it seemed to me that I was more nour- 
ished by them than by the dinner I had eaten at the 
cross-roads, or any dinner eaten at a conventional table. 
The subtle wild life has escaped from nearly all that we 
eat, and we get nothing but the dead and inert matter 
that is left when life has fled. It is no marvel that men 
are so tame and insipid, when they live at such a dis- 
tance from the wild life of nature. We shut ourselves 
away from the sky and the air, and take our food at such 
remoteness from the wild life which produced it, that we 
are but poorly nourished. I cannot account for the ditter- 
ent impressions I receive from fruits which grow above 
ground, in the air and sunshine, and those vegetables 
which grow underground in the dark; but the impres- 
sions are very real to me, and I doubt not are indicative 
of a real and important difference in the articles as food 
for man I think that a man should obey the faintest 
hints from the soul, for that way lies a diviner and more 
beautiful life. We commonly do not listen to the voice 
of nature in us until the whispered intuition has grown 
to a tone of thunder, accusing us of our violation ot the 
inner laws. 

AUSABLE LAKES AND THE KEENE VALLEY. 
My tramp through the Keene Valley did not furnish 
me with the views which I had anticipated. There are 
many pleasant bits, but nothing that I should go far to 
see. Ausable Lake offers no great reach of vision, but 
the mountains around it are imposing. One great out- 
standing crag is shaped like a man's face, and has been 
given the name of Indian Face. It poses far above the 
lake, and gazes steadfastly away into the south, as if ex- 



198 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

pecting the return of the races that mhabited this region 
before the white man came. It is the Sphinx of tliis 
region, its face stern, impassive, unchanged by the centu- 
ries with their storms and cahns. While at the lake I 
visited Ice Cave, a cavity in the mountain side a few feet 
from the lake shore, where snow and ice are found in 
midsummer. This is the cave whither old white-haired 
Hiems retreated when the returning sun-god drove him 
from the land. The Cave of Winter, I should call it, 
where you may feel the North-king's icy breath upon 
your cheek, and see the bed of snow which he has made 
to sleep upon during the reign of summer. 

The road from Keene Center to the Cascade Lakes is for 
the first two miles a steep climb from the valley. The 
lakes are not especially impressive, though the mountain 
wall that rises from them is imposing in its grandeur. 
The lakes are small and narrow, and suggest a quiet 
stream in a canon. The stage stops here for dinner on 
the way to Lake Placid, and the passenger pays one dol- 
lar for his meal. I did not dine there, because I did not 
think I could get my money's worth. I do not like to 
sacrifice too much to the god of the belly, albeit he is a 
very popular deity, and his worship well attended. I 
consider a dollar too large an offering to make at one 
time. 

THE GEAVE OF OLD JOHN BEOWN. 

The John Brown farm is the mecca of many pilgrims 
during the summer season. Stage-loads of people come, 
alight, and run over the place like the locusts of Egypt ; 
and the good Pharaoh who rules the realm has no power 
to cast them out. The tombstone is a huge rock, per- 
haps eight or ten feet high, and fifteen long, with the 
name John Brown carved in it in great letters. The 
grave has besides this an ordinary headstone, which did 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 



199 



duty for the grandfather of the hero of Harper's Ferry, 
and bears his name in quaint old-fashioned letters. Be- 
low it is an inscription to old John Brown, and lower 
still the name of a son who lies by his father's side. A 
fence has been built around the spot where the grave is, 
the enclosure being about fifty feet square, and the head- 
stone is protected by a wooden box, fastened with a pad- 
lock. When visitors wish to see the stone, the box is 
removed by the man in charge, who stands watchfully 
by to see that no corners are chipped from the stone by 
that fiend of historic places, the relic hunter. The man 
who has for twenty years lived in this house and exhib- 
ited the house and grounds to curious visitors is by name 
Reuben Lawrence, — ''Call it Deacon Reuben Lawrence 
if you like," he said with a touch of honest pride. Cer- 
tainly the man who has so long assisted at this altar for 
hero-worship deserves the title Deacon, even if he never 
assisted at the holy sacrament. It is indeed a holy office, 
though the levity of visitors often robs the place of the 
sentiment it should inspire. The Deacon, as I soon came 
to call him, answers scores of questions daily, and ex- 
hibits a patience worthy of a saint. He is a rugged, 
sturdy specimen of manhood, suggestive of oak and 
hickory, and looks as though you could not split him 
with a maul and wedge. 

The younger generation visit this grave of Old John 
Brown chiefly because it is mentioned as one of the 
"attractions" of the region, and do not feel the reverence 
that must stir the heart of those who know the remark- 
able career of the old hero. As I stand beside the grave, 
my heart beats fast with adoration. That grim form 
rises before me, and with it I see millions more, — the 
souls of black slaves, for whom he died. I see the gal- 
lows, which his death made sacred as the cross. I hear 
the cries of hatred in the south, and the words of com- 
mendation in the north. But this "fanatic" was wiser 



200 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

than he knew, wiser than his generation knew. Such 
men bear the torch of progress, and light the path for the 
feet of their more timid fellows. And now his dust 
sleeps in this quiet spot, beside the huge rock where in 
life he used to sit and read his Bible, — read those words 
of condemnation of wrong and oppression, which strength- 
ened his great soul for its heroic task. All honor to Old 
John Brown, martyr-hero of a sacred cause ; and may his 
soul march on forever, while freedom needs defenders, or 
oppression needs rebuke. 

THE GAME QUESTIOlSr. 

The old residents of the Adirondack country are much 
exercised over the purchase of large tracks by wealthy 
individuals, and the posting thereon of notices forbidding 
hunting. It may be a fair question to ask whether a 
man acquires a title to wild game by the purchase of the 
land where it is found. So long as the practice of kill- 
ing wild animals continues, perhaps all should have an 
equal chance. But I think there is a growing number of 
people who hope for the time when the hunting of wild 
animals for sport shall entirely cease. Progress in civili- 
zation should be and probably is accompanied by a regard 
for the life and happiness of every kind of creature. I 
fear that for the most part we are still savages, though 
dressed in finer fur and feathers than our distant kin. 
Our instincts are mostly brutal, and we love the sight of 
blood. We are cannibals, eating the flesh of our fellow- 
creatures. Even the South Sea Islanders do not eat their 
own brothers and sisters, so I do not see that we are any 
better than they merely because we do not. The world 
is still possessed by the savage. It is not yet the poet's 
world, tire lover's world, and is not like to be for many 
centuries to come. But I would plead for higher uses of 
the world than to convert it into a Roman amphitheater. 



LEAVES FKOM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 201 

RACING WITH THE HOURS. 

I AM still without a timepiece, though I know when it 
is midday by two stakes which I drove into the ground 
so that their shadows coincide at noontide. Perhaps 
this much of a chronometer is useful, to remind us that 
the day is half gone, and that we should take care to 
make the latter half of the race the best. Coming down 
the home stretch of the day we should run our best, that 
we may not lose the whole race. What competitors we 
have to run with ! Folly, sloth, indifference, and many 
others run with us, and we must exert ourselves strenu- 
ously, if we would leave them all behind, and be able to 
say at the day's end, " I have run the race." There is 
but one aim in running the race, and that is, to win it. 
All training, all equipment, all preparation, should be to 
that single end. It is not to show our fine paces, nor 
our fine harness, that we should run ; but to reach the 
goal in due season. If I can run each day's course well, 
and receive at the close the victor's wreath, I care not 
much what my harness is, nor what my pace is. 

THOUGHTS OF IDEAL LIFE. 

Sunday morning, July 31. — This Sunday is not a sun- 
day, but a rain-day, sacred therefore to Jupiter Pluvius. 
I have built a camp-fire in front of my tent, and its 
crackling is sweet music to my ears. Its smoke ascends 
as incense from my altar, and I worship, as becomes the 
Lord's day, or any day, here in the woods. I shall have 
a dinner of trout and stewed potatoes, with milk, — such 
a simple meal as befits this simple life. I think it is the 
complexity and variety of our life that makes us desire so 
much variety in dress and diet. We live superficially, 
glancing rapidly from this to that, and do not get the 
whole of anything we touch. We think we have nothing 
to eat unless we have a dozen dishes, and nothing to wear 
unless we possess a score or more of garments. I think 



202 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

if we should live more earnestly, we should find less 
variety sufficient, both in food and raiment; or rather, 
we should have the same variety by a new discovery in 
the old. 

We are as prodigal of time as of other possessions, and 
do not get the most out of every moment, as we ought to 
do. I think none of us realize how sacred every moment 
should be. Life is so short, and the possibilities to an 
earnest and zealous man are so great, that I am jealous 
of every minute frivolously employed. It is a serious 
thing to be alive, in this wondrous universe, with its 
starlights gleaming overhead out of the Infinite, its seas 
and mountains appealing to the heights and depths of the 
soul. God did not make the world in vain. It is not 
for sport, merely, that we are here, but for some mighty 
end whose meaning does but faintly gleam on us in our 
moments of inspiration. I would have the stars shine on 
every deed, relating it to them, in their beauty and im- 
mensity. I would do no act which may not be viewed 
with the stars, without seeming trivial or cheap. AVhen 
a man loses sight of the universe in which he lives, and 
thinks of himself as the inhabitant of some house or vil- 
lage merely, he degrades his life, and bounds it by a nar- 
row horizon. We should look out at all times upon 
Immensity, and see that our life is related thereto; that 
stars shine over us for a purpose ; that planets revolve 
in their orbits with a direct reference to our life. Here 
is this smoke ascending from my camp-fire, in a delicate 
column, as if hastening back to the sun, whence it came. 
Shall not I also aspire heavenward, whence I had my 
being ? The trees are all growing heavenward, but man 
is dwarfed and stunted and contorted until he scarcely 
suggests the divine beauty that should be his. My dream 
of a perfect life for man is not born of any man I have 
ever seen. It is born of the Spirit, Avhispered in my ear 
in dream-hours, when the soul communes with her Uni- 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 203 

versal Self and receives deep revelations therefrom. I 
would reveal the True Man, the Divine Man, which, per- 
ceived, makes himself manifest, — the Word become 
flesh. I love the woods better than the village because 
there I am surrounded with the pure thought of God, 
made manifest in the trees and plants. From them I 
catch the keynote of those universal harmonies to which 
man's soul should be attuned. In the village I seldom 
hear that keynote, but rather a din of discords, the false 
opinions and uttered delusions of men. I go to the woods 
as to a purer world, a primitive Eden-world, where I may 
think of man as not fallen, but a child of God, divine 
by nature, made in God's own image. And when I con- 
ceive man so, I perceive how such a creature should live. 
I see the laws that should enchant him, and make his 
life beautiful and sweet. 

A RUSTIC LODGE. 
Aug. 12. — I have broken camp at Lake Placid, and 
have for a week past been building a lodge on the John 
Brown farm. It is located on a hilltop at some distance 
from the farm-house, and commands a magnificent moun- 
tain view. This lodge is quite an achievement for an 
amateur carpenter. It is ten feet square, and the ridge- 
pole is about nine feet from the ground. It is built of 
slabs with the bark on, and roofed with spruce bark, 
peeled' in large slices from the trees. Deacon Lawrence 
sent his team to the saw-mill to haul the slabs, and I 
employed a man one day to help me peel bark and cut 
poles. The work of building I did alone, using a saw, 
hammer, square, pocket-knife, and an axe. The interior 
of the lodge is lined with birch and poplar bark, making 
a very handsome effect. I built a bed with huge birch 
posts, and filled it with balsam boughs, putting a small 
tick filled with straw on the top. For years I have longed 
to live as I am living now, in a house of my own con- 



204 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

struction, with nature for study and society. When I 
contemplate a return to civilization and a conventional 
life my heart sinks within me, and it seems like a delib- 
erate abandonment of my better genius. 

MORN^G IN THE MOUNTAINS. 
My life here is daily filled with joy and exultation. 
In the morning I am awake before sunrise, to greet 
Aurora as she " rises from her saffron couch to sprinkle 
the world with new light," as Virgil says. The spectacle 
of daybreak is more sublime and beautiful than words 
can hint. First the eastern sky above the mountains 
glows with a delicate light. The silence of night is 
broken by the song of birds. Athwart the purpling sky 
a pair of crows wing their heavy flight, calling lustily on 
the world to waken and worship the goddess Dawn. The 
clouds that hang like banners in the sky are touched to 
a golden and then a silvern glow. The mountains be- 
gin to emerge grandly from the veiling mists of night. 
Around them still clings the drapery of the clouds, but 
it is melting into light. In the valleys the fog lies in 
great sheets, like lakes, just tinted by the dawning light. 
The forests are still in shadow, but clothed in the illusion 
of the morning mist. The earth seems like a great blos- 
som, just vmfolding its delicate tinted petals, and the 
fragrance of the new-born day is like celestial incense ; 
or, she is a goddess, who has just bathed in the cool 
night-shadows ; and now, with rosy cheeks and clinging 
drapery of fire-touched clouds, she emerges to another 
day. How can a man live a single day with less than 
divine aims and impulses, when each day is so divinely 
ushered in ? Nature gives us the day pure and sweet, 
arrayed in celestial garments. We defile it with our 
coarse aims, and drag its garments in the dust. But 
nature is never discouraged. She cleanses the day in 
floods of darkness, and restores it to us pure and sweet. 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 205 

How long, how long before we shall worthily use the 
beautiful day that nature gives us ? 

CAMP-FIRE DREAMS. 

At night I usually build a camp-fire in front of my 
lodge, and lie in my hammock watching the flames leap 
and dance and the smoke curl and float. I dream fair 
dreams of life, and plan how I shall contribute something 
to make this society of ours on earth more like the king- 
dom of heaven. The flames burn away all the dross of 
this earthly life, and I see it j^u^rified, made holy by love 
and truth, a very society of gods. That fire is my altar- 
flame, where I worship the Ideal in life. Its smoke rises 
like an holy incense, accompanied by my own aspirations, 
and in the changing flames I see visions of a regener- 
ate humanity, united by love, dwelling in peace together. 
If I could write what I see in my altar-fire, there should 
be a Book of Man, picturing his divine estate ; a world 
at peace with itself, where men have become gods, know- 
ing not pain or death. But my camp-fire dies out, and 
the bright visions fade. The world is shrouded in night, 
but the stars peep down, to admonish me that there is 
still light in the heavens, though the earth be dark. I 
betake myself to sleep, in the faith that when I awake it 
will be glorious day. Yes, I know that men shall not 
forever walk in darkness. The Sons of Light come forth 
out of the east of prophetic vision, and raise their heroic 
voices to cheer their despondent fellows. Watch and 
pray, brothers, watch and pray, and the morning shall 
surely come. 

RAINY DAY REVERIES. 

Aug. 25. — This morning when I awoke the ram was 
falling fast, and the mountains were obscured. The 
patter of the rain on my roof was, however, sweet music 
to me, and I lay for a long time on my rude bed and 



206 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

chanted lines from Homer and Virgil, companioning with 
those far-off spirits as kindred souls who loved nature 
before that sentiment was made cheap and common by 
artificial scribblers. 

I am writing this morning with an old trunk-lid for a 
desk, covered with birch bark. I sit in my hammock 
before my camp-stove, holding the lid in my lap. The 
fire roars lustily, and makes a fine accompaniment to the 
patter of the rain on my roof and the music of the wind 
whirling about my lodge. Occasionally a gust of wind 
whirls the raindrops into the open front of the lodge, 
and they hiss and dance as they strike upon the top of 
the stove. Prankie, the small boy of the family at the 
farm-house, has just brought me a pail of milk, with an 
invitation to take dinner at the house. I perceive through 
him a certain solicitude on the part of the family in my 
behalf, lest I should not be comfortable in my open lodge 
this cold stormy day : but I would not exchange quarters 
with a prince this morning. I am closer to my Genius 
on stormy days, when I am shut up in my lodge, with 
only my thoughts for company. We commonly dissipate 
ourselves with a multitude of affairs, each of which ab- 
sorbs a portion of our strength, and we do not quite know 
what sort of company we should be for ourselves because 
we have so little time for self -acquaintance. I find that 
I grow in interest to myself by continued study and 
acquaintance. I sometimes hastily depreciate myself, 
and think any sort of oblivion better than companionship 
with such a fellow ; but when I am shut up with myself, 
and compelled to take myself for better or for worse for 
the space of half a day, I find unsuspected beauty in the 
play of my mind. The nimble phenomena of thought 
are of deeper interest than we commonly su^^pose, and 
perhaps offer the newest and most profitable field of 
study. 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 207 



TABLE TALK AND TABLE FAEE. 

Aug. 27. — This morning is cold and rainy, but I 
open my windows to the light of the spiritual sun and 
my abode is illumined and made glad. I have been to the 
woods for my breakfast of red raspberries, which grow 
here in great profusion, large and sweet. I breakfasted 
with a squirrel, whose shrill chatter meant much more 
to me than breakfast discourse usually means. Our table 
talk is commonly as cheap and poor as our table fare ; as 
tame and insipid, and as profitless for real nutrition. 
But this squirrePs chatter meant life; free, wild, sweet, 
and beautiful. It discoursed of sweet morning airs, of 
the delicate beauty of day -break skies, of dewy flowers, 
and fresh, new-born beauties of the day. If our life were 
attuned to the keynote of my squirrel's chatter, how vital 
and free it should be ! I go to the woods not because I 
wish to live or have my brothers live a wild and barbarous 
life ; but to learn the principles and laws of natural liv- 
ing, that they may be applied to our social state for its 
redemption. I would not renounce society but to redeem 
it. My renunciations are always in the interests of more 
society, not less. As the singer listens for the chord 
which sets the key for his performance, so do I in the 
woods listen for the keynote of that divine life which 
society ought to live. Hearing it, I will go forth to sing 
the chant of the divine life, the life in harmony with 
nature. 

DECORATIONS OF NATUEE. 

This little lodge of mine seems a very shrine, haunted 
by all the graces. It is saturated Avith the purest and 
best in nature. The morning light bathes it in a deli- 
cate beauty, as the great sun throws out his heralding 
banners of light-kissed clouds. The glow of morning 
paints it with a color that makes cheap and common all 



208 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

pigments of lead and oil. When Aurora, rising from lier 
couch of night, steps forth radiant in robes of light, she 
throws the sheen of her mantle over the hillsides and 
over my humble lodge, and no temple of the sun was ever 
more beautiful. If we would but employ nature to deco- 
rate our walls and ceilings, what dwellings we should have! 

THE INNEE VOICE. 

Every soul needs solitude for its highest development. 
My sweetest hours are not those spent with the friends 
whom I love, but with the Genius of Solitude. When I 
sit alone, with my soul bathed in the Divine Light, there 
is companionship and joy which society knows not of. 
These are my birth hours, when I am born into new modes 
of life and thought. Then society seems degradation; 
books seem profane screens, hiding God from me; the 
voices of men, however lofty, seem but echoes of that 
Voice which is speaking to me. There is but one source 
of Truth, and that is, communion with the Divine Mind. 
All sacred books, all oracles, all prophetic revelations, 
are records and expressions of that. The highest use of 
any revelation is to send us home to the Eevealer. The 
prophet fails if he but succeeds in making men listen to 
his voice. Unless he lead men to God, he is not divine. 
In these hours of illumination we are made aware of our 
own nature, that it is divine. We abstract ourselves 
from the illusions of the world, and stand face to face 
with Eeality. We perceive that Man is God; that into 
the human soul are organized the laws of Perfection, 
waiting only for recognition to be made manifest. We 
know then that the Soul is All-Perfect ; that it proceeds 
out of the All-Perfect, Divine Life. A new dignity 
clothes our life, a new force begins to play in us, and we 
are reformed, remade, reborn in the divine image. Love 
habits in that high atmosphere, and we are one with it 
when we rise thereto. 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 209 

The work for each one of us is to make this perception 
a practical force in life. Mathematics does not serve the 
highest use until it is applied to affairs. When Geometry 
serves Justice, enabling men to measure according to 
right, it is divine. The sciences underlie every inven- 
tion that has made the condition of man better in this 
world; and therein do they find their divinest uses. So 
let our philosophy regulate our daily conduct. Let us 
make our market-place a holy temple, dedicated to the 
service of mankind. Let trade be carried on in love and 
benevolence, and it becomes philanthropy, the very work 
of religion. Heaven cannot come to us, nor can we go to 
it; we must create it within ourselves and within our 
environment, by the application of Divine Truth to 
thoughts and acts. 

CHAEACTEE-BUILDING. 

The simplest affairs of life are right objects for the 
application of the highest philosophy. The real use of 
truth is to serve man; wherever he may be placed, in 
whatsoever he may be engaged. It is not actions, but the 
qualities of actions, that determine character. Whether 
I wield a scepter or hoe, I should wield it only after the 
divine laws. Thus, the one act is as great as the other. 
It matters not what I do, but how I do it; not where I 
live, but hoAv I live ; not what end I achieve, but by what 
means I achieve it. We live in the midst of illusions. 
ISTo act is what it seems to be. Every supposed end is in 
reality a means, — to what end we may not know. The 
popular idea of greatness is a delusion. It is not how 
men see us, but how we see ourselves ; not what critics 
or historians say, but what verdict our own soul renders, 
that should be our highest criterion. We imagine that 
our virtue is of no account if it be not made public. 
But there is no secret virtue. Though the critics may 
not discover it, though our neighbors even may not sus- 



210 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

pect it, any virtue in us does go out in radiant streams 
to affect the very stars. When I lift my hand, yonder 
star trembles in its orbit. Who knows the influence of 
a single thought ? Immensity responds to the motions 
of the human soul. There is no tracing the course of 
thought. I cannot hide myself so but that the very stars 
shall know my presence. We are deluded with the idea 
that some public station, such as a pulpit, rostrum, 
editor's or teacher's desk, forum or legislative hall, is 
the necessary channel for public influence. But not so. 
The soul itself is the real arena for all our contests. Our 
relations to the universe were established from eternity. 
We need not look to them. But let us look to our own 
life, that it be lived according to the divine laws. We 
should never, even for one instant, consider the effect of 
our act upon another person, or upon his opinions ; but 
only of its relation to divine truth. If I speak truth, the 
truth will justify itself, else it cannot be justified. If I 
enact justice, I need not apologize nor explain. I have 
Omnipotence to support me. I would have my brethren 
love truth and virtue. But how shall I make them love 
these save through my daily relations to themselves? It 
cannot be conveyed orally. It must be observed in con- 
duct, to be apprehended. I need not the strength to 
teach, but the strength to be. So high is being above 
speaking, that mere words are unintelligible babble. 
Character speaks ; but the tongue alone, never. 

MORNING VOICES. 

Aug. 28. — I am writing this morning before my lodge, 
worshiping, like an eastern devotee, between three fires; 
my camp-stove on the left, on which my breakfast is 
cooking; on the right, my camp-fire, the vestal fire of 
this new temple to Nature, attended with all sanctity; 
and in front of me the great Sun-fire, just rising over the 
misty mountains, to flood the earth with light and beauty. 



LEAVES FROM AN ADIRONDACK JOURNAL. 211 

In the valleys the fog lies like placid lakes, just tinted by 
the rising sun. From the farmyard below come mnsical 
sounds, the tinkle of cow-bells, the oracular quacking of 
ducks, and the voices of men. The woods behind my 
lodge resound with the voices of nature, always pure and 
sweet; the cry of the bluejay, the chuckle of squirrels, 
the vigorous cawing of crows, with an occasional bleat 
from some sheep in the pasture beyond, indicating the 
presence of a domestic life in these wild places. 

GOD IN NATUEE. 

How degraded is that civilization which benumbs and 
paralyzes all the finer instincts of man ! We are pagans, 
— nay, not pagans, for they worship, though not after our 
fashion. We have so cut ourselves off from nature that 
the world is a secular place, no Divine Presence shining 
through it. We worship only in the church, if even 
there. We hear no word of God save that which is read 
to us out of Holy Writ. The voices of nature do not 
speak to us of an Indwelling Presence, whose Life is the 
soul of all that is ; whose Being is revealed in every blade 
of grass, every plant, every tree, every creature that 
moves in the sea or the air or upon the earth. We can 
have no religion but one of tradition until we perceive 
that God forever reveals himself in nature and in the 
human soul. 

SPIRITUAL LAWS. 
Our faith in spiritual laws is continually being tainted 
by fear. We have been so educated to regard material 
conditions that we do not quite dare to trust the soul for 
all. We think we must palter and bargain, and see that 
our contracts are secure, else we shall somehow be cheated. 
But the laws of the soul enact strict and inevitable justice. 
Let a man cast his lot with them and he is secure. It is 
because we expect material rewards exclusively that we 



212 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

have so little faith. If meat and drink are all, let us 
make our criterions accordingly. But if there is justice, 
love, purity, beauty, loyalty, in the soul, let us consider 
these. Let us make our estimate of man large enough, 
and we shall not miss the true criterion. 

THE EEAL PAGANS. 

We call those pagans who worship the sun as a god. 
We send missionaries to them, to convert them to our 
true faith. But we are the pagans, who do not worship 
anything, unless it be gods of gold and silver. It is not 
our faith, but our lack of faith, that makes us such 
Christians as we are. Most glorious orb! Eefulgent 
king ! Who can look upon thy face and live ? Let me 
chant those words of David, pagan that he was, who 
worshiped this god of morning : " Lift up your heads, 
ye gates, and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors, and 
the King of Glory shall come in." " Who is this King 
of Glory ? " Who but this Lord of Hosts, this Day-god, 
who, through the everlasting doors of morning, makes 
his victorious entrance, driving before him the hosts of 
darkness! Shine, great Orb, flooding the spaces with 
thy light and warmth ! Thou, releaser of bound life ; 
thou, breaker of winter-chains ; thou, saviour to the 
whole earth; come forth out of the sepulcher-gates of 
night-death, glorious in thy resurrection robes, and show 
thyself to men ! 



SOUL-YOICES. 



THE SOUL OF THE POET. 

The poet is wild, 
He is nature's free child, 

And his spirit is free as the wild winds that rove, 
That waken the echoes in cave, glen, and grove. 
O the Spirit is free ! 
It descendeth on me 
Like a torrent of fire. 
And beckoneth higher 
And still higher and higher, 
And the notes of my lyre 
Chime out my desire 

To mount to the skies on the pinions of song : 
And the stars look amazed. 
And the fair moon is dazed, 

And the spirits of waters and winds are all crazed 
By the seething infection they catch from my soul ; 
And the winds as they blow. 
And the brooks as they flow, 
And the rivers that on to the great ocean go, 
And the tides as they roll. 
Are the types of my soul ; 
And their voices unite 
In the strength of their might 
To chant forth the moods of my soul, of my soul. 
O the poet's a wild soul, and free as the winds 5 
213 



214 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. 

His numbers are fleet as the swiftest of hinds ; 

And forth on the pinions of song he will ride 

Like the billow that rolls on the crest of the tide ; 

And the wild sea-birds in their flight lag behind, 

And the winds cannot catch him, so swift will he ride ; 

And the words of his song more swiftly will glide 

Than torrent descending the steep mountain side. 

O the soul of the poet is a whirlwind of thought, 

A tempest of feeling that is never outwrought ; 

For the dreams that he dreams 

And the visions he sees, 

More vast than the spaces, 

More wild than the seas, 

More strange than Sphinx-faces, 

Passing swift as the breeze. 

More fair than the stars 

That sing out of the sky, — 

As distant as they, and yet as nigh, — 

O these in his soul seethe and tumble and roll, 

And they never come forth from the depths of his soul. 

So the poet is wild, 

He is nature's free child. 

And within him are pent 

Pires of feeling ne'er spent ; 

And from out of his soul 

Fiery thought-planets roll ; 

And within him are born. 

In his creation morn, 

Worlds that evermore roll 

From the depths of his soul ; 

Worlds peopled with fancies. 

With wildest romances. 

With tales of hot love. 

With spirits that rove 

Through the blue air above, 

With demons of darkness, 



SOUL-VOICES. 215 

With, imps of despair, 

That throughout these worlds wander 

And rove everywhere. 

THE CUP OF LOVE. 
O Love, that sweep' st the heartstrings o'er 
Like the wind that singeth along the shore 
Of the wild and restless sea ! 
Thou bearest joy and pain with thee ; 
Thou art mixed in the urns of the gods above — 
Bitter and sweet, hatred and love, 
Joy and woe and smiles and tears. 
Are the mixtures poured from the urn of years. 
Angels and men must drink the cup, 
For the heart will love and the soul will cry, 
And we live not until we know the taste 
Of this bitter-sweet draught that is mixed on high. 
Then drink, soul, of this mixture rare, 
That is mingled in that upper air ; 
Bitter-sweet, ecstatic pain, 
Joy that is turned to grief again. 
Grief that is gilded round with joy, 
A cup of gold and base alloy. 
Dark and bright its contents are. 
Sparkling over their bitter dregs; 
Sweet as honey and bitter as gall. 
The taste of this mixture rare. 
And yet the mighty gods are kind. 
And love full well their sons below. 
They send this draught as a cup of life, 
Which can deepest wisdom on us bestow. 
Who drinketh not this cup of love 
Hath never tasted life at all ; 
For life is death when love is not, 
And sweetest nectar is but gall. 
Then love, heart, as true hearts may ! 



216 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. 

Let nothing thy sweet faith dismay ; 
Take to thyself this falsehood sweet, 
That thou in another thy love canst meet ; 
That in those eyes, so dark and fair, 
Thou canst find that treasure rare 
Which ever thou hast sought in vain, 
And in that form canst clasp again 
The angel that escaped thee when 
Thou left thy native haunts above 
And journeyed to this world of men. 
Take to thy heart this fancy fair. 
This image with the nut-brown hair, 
Those laughing eyes, that melting mouth, 
With breath like breezes from the South, 
Where flowers perfume all the air. 
And make it fragrant everywhere. 
Take to thy heart that graceful form. 
And heed not in the rose the worm. 
For Beauty's charm is never marred, 
And Grace's feature never scarred, 
By whatsoever may befall 
When love's illusion covers all. 
Thou canst not wiser act, believe, 
Than to accept what must deceive ; 
For by our trust we wiser grow. 
And from the good the evil know ; 
And Love, that arch illusionist. 
Hath lessons rare to teach the soul. 
Which never can be learned by him 
Who doth not grasp the bitter whole. 
By faith in falsehood learn we truth, 
By loving sin we virtue gain, 
By following the dancing light 
We firmer ground and faith attain. 
So love illusion whilst thou may. 
And learn by her fair wisdom's way ; 



SOUL-VOICES. 217 

Follow the bog-light till the Star 
Appears above thy path afar ; 
And when thou seest the Perfect Light, 
Away will fade the forms of night, 
And Virtue's self and Love's own face 
Thou shalt discover, by God's grace. 

TO A TEEE. 

Speak to me, brother, so sturdily rooted 
In the cold soil, upholding thy arms to the sky ; 
Tell me the secret of living, my brother, 
The secret of living, the whence and the why. 
By one common soil our being is nourished. 
One sun warms our limbs, one air folds us round ; 
Toward the sky we are reaching, with hearts ever yearn- 
ing, 
While our roots hold us fast to the dark, moldy ground. 
You are beat on by tempests, and buffeted daily 
By the forces of nature that beat on my soul; 
You do not complain, but stand sturdy, defiant, 
While the years over you and me fleetly do roll. 
You see the fleet changes of autumn and springtime, 
Your leaves fall and die, as die hopes of the heart ; 
But the springtime doth clothe you again in your beauty ; 
Is there springtime for me ? is the cry of my heart. 
Brother tree, grimly standing, so silent and solemn, 
Will you not speak one word to my listening ear? 
Will you not give one hint of this life's mystic meaning ? 
Whence come we ? Where go we ? And why are we 
here ? 

THE SEA AND THE SOUL. 

FOR a home by the wild, wild sea. 
Where the cry of the sea-bird, wild and free, 
Cometh on every breeze to me ! 
Where winds and waves wild music make ; 



218 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

Where the spray flies high and the mad waves break 

Where the crags fling back the echoes free, 

And every sound is a joy to me ! 

Oh, the winds blow wild by the broad sea-shore, 

And the tide comes in with a maddened roar, 

And all is music, wild and sweet, 

That day or night my ears doth greet. 

The sea is mine, and I am hers ; 

We were born of the same great universe ; 

Through both the same wild currents sweep. 

Through both the same wild music flows, 

And sun and storm glad measure keep : 

We both have depths of mystery, 

And hidden caves with treasures strewn ; 

We both transcend all history. 

And pass the portals of the known. 

In me the waves of ocean find 

Their restless, heaving counterpart, 

In motions of my restless mind. 

In surgings of my throbbing heart ; 

Wild voices cry above my soul. 

As o'er the ocean's heaving breast, 

And through my inner chambers roll 

The billows that shall never rest. 

I am another heaving sea, 

And picture vast eternity ; 

The stars are mirrored in my breast, 

And never do my waves find rest. 

I wash the farthest shores of Thought ; 

By me strange miracles are wrought ; 

I follow Avith obedient tide 

The Moon that doth in heaven ride. 

JOY OF MY LOVE. 

Joy of the morning, joy of the noon, 
Joy of the twilight and evening still ; 



SOUL-VOICES. 219 

Whicli is the best joy of all these three ? 

The joy that bringeth my love to me. 

Pale is the morning, leaden the noon, 

Dark and gloomy the twilight sky 

In which my love's light doth not shine 

To gladden my eager eye. 

My love is morning and noon and night, 

The glow of the east and the x^omp of day ; 

My love is the blush of the sunset sky, 

And the light of the stars in the Milky Way. 

Morning and noon and night are one 

When the love that lights them is dead and gone. 

GOD IS OYER ALL. 

The mellow moonlight bathes the world. 

And God is over all. 

Down through the tree-tops gleam the stars. 

And God is over all. 

The world lies draped in a mantle white. 

And all things glow with a soft, pure light, 

And God is over all. 

Softly the town bell chimes the hour, 

Its mellow tones float from the tower 

Out o'er the sleeping world. 

And God is over all. 

Silence, like death, lies on the town. 

Out of the sky the moon looks down, 

Cold and chaste, without a frown. 

And God is over all. 

Sparkles the snow upon the ground, 

The trees in white robes stand around, 

Silent and ghostly, with upheld arms, 

And God is over all. 

Sleep, my soul, in the silent night. 

Dream thy dreams of a future bright ; 

See, through the dark, the dawning light. 

For God is o- er all. 



220 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. 

THE SONG OF THE SIRENS.^ 
Sirens, singing beside the ocean, 
Your fatal song cannot harm me now : 
I have heard Orpheus, divinest singer, 
Charming me from all songs below. 
I will not lash myself to the mast-head. 
Listening, bound, to your charming song : 
I boldly look in your beautiful faces, — 
I listen unmoved, and pass along ; 
For I have heard a diviner singer. 
Singing to me a higher song. 
Never again your song can charm me. 
Never again my soul can wrong. 
Singer divine, of Truth's best music, 
Chant to my soul your high refrains : 
My ears shall be deaf to earth's best music. 
And listen alone for your high strains. 
That is the music the stars of morning 
Sang together so long ago : 
I know those strains, I sang them also, 
Their sweetest cadence my soul doth know. 
That is the music that rolls through heaven : 
God himself is its undertone ; 
His life is music, sounding sweetly 
To ears that listen to Him alone. 
Sing, then, Orpheus, god-like singer. 
Teach the Sirens themselves thy song; 
Save them from their own destruction, 
Eaise them into the heavenly throng. 

1 The hero Ulysses, when sailing by the strand on which the Sirens 
were singing their fatal songs, stuffed the ears of his companions with 
wax, and tied himself to the mast, that they miglit not be lured to 
destruction by the music. Later, when the ships of the Argonauts 
sailed by these same sweet singers, the crews were safe from the charm 
of their fatal music, because they had with them Orpheus, whose music 
out-charmed that of the Sirens. 



SOUL-VOICES. 221 



THE NAME OE MY HEART-QUEEN. 
Queen of my heart-kingdom, enthroned in my soul-em- 
pire, 
Ruling my being with love's sweet power. 
What shall I call thee, dear, what name is fit for thee. 
Thee, whom Avith all my life's riches I dower ? 
Elowers have names, my love, stars are endowed with 

them, 
Rainbows and sunsets are called by a name. 
All beauteous things in the earth, sea, and heavens, 
Have a sign and a symbol in the language of men ; 
But thou, oh my sweet, fair love, cannot be named by 

words : 
No sound that's uttered by angels above 
Is fit for my Heart-queen, my fair little Heart-queen, 
Who rules o'er my being with the scepter of love. 
The silence shall name thee, the beautiful silence. 
Out of which flow the forms that adorn the fair earth ; 
The silence that holds in solution all beauty. 
Out of whose mighty womb all things have their birth. 
And the silence, the silence, in musical accents. 
Pronounces a word that no murmuring tongue 
Of mortal, though gifted with the speech of Apollo, 
Has ever yet whispered or uttered or sung. 
Its sound is like music the brook makes in springtime, 
When its waters are singing on their way to the sea ; 
Or like the soft warble of robins, nest-building. 
Or the song of the wind in the boughs of a tree. 
It catches the music of waves on the sea-shore, 
When the lyre of the sands is swept by the tide ; 
Its accents are mingled with rose-lipped shells' echoes, 
And the voices of sea-nymphs with its sound are allied. 
Nor the speech of the fairies, nor the language of angels 
Who chant their glad songs in the heavens above. 
Has a sound like that name Avhich the silence pronounces. 
The name of my Heart-queen, who rules me with love. 



222 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

THE IDEAL LOVE. 

What is the symbol of love — 

That love which is greater than symbol ? 

Maiden so i^ure and sweet, 

That makest my heart-strings to tremble, 

Thou art but sign and a hint 

Of that which is signified never; 

Thou but the fleeting illusion 

Of that which eludeth me ever. 

Love, sweet and pure, of the spirit, 

Harmony waked on the soul-harp 

By breath from some airy vastness, 

Thou dost all world-things inherit; 

Thou art the soul's own possession, 

Born in the deeps of the spirit. 

Signs and dark hints thou hast many, 

But thyself ever dost hide ; 

Seen of no mortal, touched never. 

Thou art the spirit's own bride. 

Dwellest thou deep in each bosom. 

In chamber of thought pure and sweet, 

Coniest thou forth to day never, 

Shy of the world's dust and heat. 

LOVE'S PLAINT. 

O LOVE that cries out for its object ! 

Like the wail of the night wind, the moan 

Of the swift-breaking waves on the sea-shore, 

Doth the heart utter plaint for its own. 

Like the voice of the whippoorwill, crying 

In the silence and darkness alone, 

Like the sounds that the night wind bears onward 

Erom marsh and from meadow below, 

So the plaint of my sad heart doth go. 

So the tides of my lonely heart flow. 

So the soul that is in me makes moan. 



SOUL-VOICES. 



223 



THE WEECK OF THE " THUNDERBOLT » 

Wild was the wind when morning broke, 
And the wail of the wires wildly rose 

Like the music of an untuned harp 

When over the strings the north wind blows. 

Round and over the chimney tops 

The skurrying snowflakes madly whirled, 

And down from the sky, which was full of snow, 
The frost-flowers fell on the outspread world. 

Off to the west a rumbling sound, 

A whistle's shriek and a clang of bell; 

And men at the station, looking out. 
Said " Number eight is doing well ! " 

A roar and a rush, and past them whirled 
The " Thunderbolt," three hours late ; 

But none of the men at the station there 
Knew the decree of eternal Fate. 

« We're making time : shove in the coal," 
The engineer to the fireman said ; 

And out of the cab, with an eagle's eye. 
He watched the storm-swept track ahead. 

The storm-fiend with his freezing breath 

And roaring wings around them whirled. 
Beating in vain the rushing train 
. Disputing his sov'reignty of the world. 

"I'll have them yet ! " the monster cried ; 

" My wings I'll flap above their grave. 
With a shroud of snow I'll wrap them so 
Their burial-places none shall know ; 

I am still a cunning knave ! " 



224 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

A tender thought of wife and child 

Softened the face of the engineer, 
And down his cheek, in a sooty streak, 

Trickled a something like a tear. 

But eyes that are watching the stormy track 
May not be dimmed by thoughts of love ; 

And he drew his rough hand 'cross his face 
With an upward thought to the God above. 

What's that ! A spot on the track ahead ! 

A moment's gleam of rushing steam, 
A sound of bell like a funeral knell, 

A burst of smoke through the snow-storm broke- 
O God of the living and the dead ! 

A crash like the stroke of planets ! 

A wreck like a shattered world ! 
And chaos there in the wintry air — 

O souls to their Maker hurled ! 

Ah ! there was dire destruction, 

And death was busy there. 
And groan and cry were swept on high 

By the dragons of the air. 

Two engines locked together, 

Like Titans huge upreared, 
And rushing steam with horrid scream 

Through driving snow appeared. 



And, mingled with the ruins, 

The mangled forms of men, 
Whose hearts had beat with love-thoughts sweet. 
Their wives and children soon to meet, 

But now to meet — Ah ! when ? 



SOUL-VOICES. 225 

Some one had been forgetful ; 

Some one the agent been 
Of that great Fate that, small and great, 

Eules o'er the lives of men. ■ 

Some one had been forgetful ; 

But men are only means 
Whereby the great Soul ruleth all, 
The cot or kingdom, great or small, 
And ruleth for the good of all, 

But from behind earth's scenes. 

I HAD A FEIEND. 
I HAD a friend, a noble friend, 
Who to my life did beauty lend ; 
Who like a flower beside my way 
Perfumed the air, and made all fair, 
Blossoming so sweetly there ; 
Charming away all dark despair, 
Illuming with celestial ray 
The darkest clouds of grief and care. 
Alas, for mortal joys below ! 
They slowly come, but quickly go. 
Like flitting shadoAv o'er the lea. 
Like billow on the crested sea. 
They come, and go, and pass from me. 
Swiftly, swiftly do they glide, 
Like the rushing of the tide, — 
Joys that were to heaven allied. 
And my friend, so dear to me, 
Fled, like wild bird o'er the sea, 
Never to come back to me. 
— Never, did I say, soul ? 
As the tides do circling roll 
Comes again to every heart 
What is of its life a part. 



226 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

It may sink, like evening star, 

Out of sight, but still afar 

Shines it on some other shore ; 

And when round the old earth turns, 

There again my bright star burns, 

And again I shall adore. 

Sweetly doth the north star shine. 

Steady in its lonely place, 

But sweeter is the changing face 

Of the fair moon, orb divine. 

Comes and goes the queen of night, 

With celestial beauty bright. 

Changing feature gives her grace 

No star has in fixed place. 

Frowns but make her face the sweeter, 

Hiding makes her charms completer. 

Bird that fled shall yet return ; 

Star that sank again shall burn ; 

And the joy that swiftly fled 

Shall rise again, as from the dead. 

Friend that seemed so lost to me, 

By my side again shall be. 

Once again shall joy return. 

Once again the hope-star burn, 

And my life shall brighter be 

For the friend once lost to me. 

But again returned to me, 

Mine for all eternity. 

THOU DREAMER. 
THOU dreumer, thou dreamer, thou dreamer of dreams. 
What seems to be is not, what is not seems. 
Thou art the seer of that which Is ; 
Thine eye looketh through pretenses ; 
Forms that seem fair are foul to thee, 
Forms that are plain are fair to thee- 



SOUL-VOICES. 227 

Tliou the Spirit in all dost see, 

The Spirit that hath reality. 

Forms that are fleeting befool thee not ; 

Thou art wiser than any wot. 

]!^ot for thee are the masks of Time, 

Not for thee are the shows sublime ; 

Thou knowest That which is greater than all 

That ever in Time or Space can befall. 

THOEN AND TENDRIL. 

O God of the rose and bramble, 

O Lord of the plants that twine, 
Thou givest the thorn to the rose-bush, 

And tendrils unto the vine. 

Thou knowest what each needeth, 

To live its humble life ; 
Thou fittest the one for clinging. 

The other thou arm'st for strife. 

Peace for the humble ivy, 

And the quiet of mossy towers; 
But strife for the rose and bramble, 

And war with their fellow-flowers. 

Thou who madest all things, 

Gave each its place to be ; 
And its life is lived most truly 

When lived most true to thee. 

All live in thy great circle. 

All in thy being meet ; 
And great and small are needed 

To make the Whole complete. 



228 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. 



LOVE'S SUEETY. 

If thou wert glad in loving one 

Who for thy love returned thee none, 

'Twas not his love that made thee glad, 

Nor lack of it can make tliee sad. 

Know thou that love 

The heart doth move 

From source within j 

And henceforth prove 

All mourning vain-, 

Rejoice again 

In what thou hast ; 

Eor, first and last^ 

All joy and pain 

Are born within. 

Wliat need hath love 

Of recompense ? 

The highest sense 

Is this to prove ; — 

That loving, we possess the loved ; 

What we possess we cannot lose, 

What now is ours, no one refuse. 

That which is loved 

Is that which loves ; 

No spirit roves 

In search of good 

It findeth not ; 

For Love loves Love, 

And Love is his 

Whom Love doth move. 

Whose heart can prove 

This saying true 

Knows all mysteries, 

Old and new. 



SOUL-VOICES. 229 



MEETING AND A PAKTE^G.^ 

A SHINING and a meeting, 
A blending and a greeting, 
A handclasp and a tender kiss, 
O inexpressibly sweet bliss — 
And Jupiter from Venus parts, 
Leaving her weeping, 
Her lonely watch keeping, 
By the western sunset gate. 
A smile and tender greeting, 
A handclasp and a meeting 
Of lips that thrill with love 
Like that of gods above ; 
Her soul and mine are blended 
In a love, ah ! too soon ended ; 
Eor as two stars, commanded 
By Power they know not, blended 
A moment, draw apart, 
So my poor heart 
Is torn from hers. 
Universe 
Of stars and souls ! 
What meetings and what partings ; 
What blended lights and lives ; 
What shattered stars and hearts ; 
No star that shines but strives 
To meet some other star, 
And join in mighty blending ; 
No heart that beats but yearns 
To find a love unending. 
But stars and hearts may greet. 
May seem to blend and meet. 
And still between them lie 
Space and eternity. 
1 Conjuuction of Jupiter and Venus, 1892. 



230 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

TO THE NEW MOON. 
Sweet moon, so softly shining 
There in the western sky, 
Clothed in a robe of misty light, 
Floating there on high, 
Attended by a chaste, bright star, 
Thou reignest o'er my soul ; 
As the ocean tides do follow thee, 
So follows thee my soul. 
Thy beauty is my soul's own love ; 
No earthly bride like thee ; 
No form so fair, in earth's dense air. 
My longing eye can see. 
My heart shall love thee, twilight queen, 
My soul shall glow, as with thy sheen ; 
Thy purity and sweetness fair 
Shall come from out that light-filled air, 
And dwell with me, with me. 
Shine on, symbol of my soul, 
Keflecting light from hidden sun ; 
^ Thou showest earth a radiance pure, 
Caught from a Mighty, Shining One. 
My soul shall love thee, symbol bright, 
Adorning heaven with thy light ; 
My soul shall catch thy radiance fair, 
And seek, with thee, that upper air. 

LOVE'S MIRACLE. 

Two hearts loved truly, side by side had lain. 

And beat in unison with love's sweet strain, 

But still were two. 

One careless moment each the other hurt 

With unkind thought. 

Eemorse did aggravate the wounds unkindly wrought, 

And each did bleed. Again together laid. 



SOUL-VOICES. 231 

The two hearts healed ; 
Their wounds were closed by Love ; 
But lo ! a wonder was revealed ; 
Instead of two that beat as one, 
Two hearts to one had grown. 

LOVE'S RESUKRECTION. 
My Love lies under the northern sky, 
Cold are the stars above her grave ; 
The birds are hushed and the flowers dead, 
And dead is the joy my Love once gave. 
Sweet was the murmur of her voice. 
Sweeter the sparkle of her eye ; 
Beat slow, heart, beat slow, I say, 
And breath, do not so heavily sigh ! 
For my Love shall rise and live again. 
As the flowers live in held and glen. 

TOO LATE THY LOVE. 

Too late thy love has come to me. 

It finds a rival in my breast. 

A higher Love possesses me 

That makes but mockery all the rest : 

A Love that outshines earthly passion. 

Stronger than death to call the soul 

Up from the loves of this world's fashion 

To where the stars of heaven do roll. 

Love of the earth, thou maddening frenzy, 

Pretending to be of heaven born, 

Cease from torturing heart of mortals ; 

Thou hast made souls enough forlorn. 

Cease from promising joy and gladness. 

And paying hearts in tears and sadness. 

Cease from blinding the eyes of mortals 

To the Light that shines through heaven's portals ; 

Cease from drawing the sons of heaven 

Away from the Joys that God has given. 



232 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 



TO A BUMBLE-BEE. 

I GREET yoii, my brother, flitting from flower to flower. 
I, wandering among the grasses and flowers, greet you 

gladly. 
I, too, am flitting from blossom to blossom. 
I alight and sip the nectar of each, I abide not with any. 
My course like thine is zig-zag. 
Because I love all blossoms and would pass none. 
brother, let us gather our honey in peace. 
The world knoweth not where our garnered sweets lie 

hidden. 
Let the contented worm live and die in one rosebud ; 
Wider is our horizon. 
From flower to flower, from field to field, 
Joyfully in the sunshine let us fly. 
He that scattered the flowers in divers places, 
And planted in us a love for their nectar. 
He knoweth why we wander, and is content. 

DEAR FBIEND. 

Dear friend, whose image steals so softly into my soul, 

Thy presence is like a gentle strain of music. 

Breathing sweet harmony. 

Thou movest like a spirit of light. 

Crowned with modesty, robed in purity. 

Breathing sweet peace and the fragrance of pure affec- 
tions. 

Thou art sister to the violet ; 

Thine eyes are rivals to the fair stars, looking benignly. 

Thy countenance is like the dawn, glowing with pure 
light. 

Sweetness and modesty are thy handmaids, 

All the graces attend thee. 

Flowers brighten when thou passest by. 

Birds sing louder when thou art listening. 



SOUL-VOICES. 233 

Thou art attuned to all pure and sweet and tender notes 

In the great symphony of life. 

Sweet friend, lift up thy soul to God, 

And praise Him that He hath so fully dwelt in thee. 

INFINITE SPIRIT. 

Thou who art the enclosure and boundary of all Being; 

Thou whose sea laps the shores of all worlds ; 

Thou who art the Beginning and End ; 

Thou who containest the vast scheme of Kosmic Order ; 

Who art the vibrant source of all life 

That breaks musically on the World-shores ; 

Thou who art the music of the sunbeam ; 

The quick dart of the star-ray ; 

The silent, permeating, all-confining Law ; 

Thou who dost put on Space and Time as the garment of 

thy Infinity ; 
Thou life, light, motion, Soul of the Kosmic web 
Which thou weavest out of thy Self-hood ; 
Speak, and reveal to my soul the mystery of her being ! 
" Out of Me, by Law proceeding, 
To the rhythmic march of spheral music. 
The soul comes forth, to join the choir of life ; 
Glad and lightsome is the song of life, 
Swelling from sphere to sphere ; 
In joyous melody roll the stars, 
And the choiring spheres sing aye to Me.'' 

THE SOUL'S PEOTECTIOK. 

Come, Fear and Doubt ; 

Come, horrible dread of that which waits the dead ! 

Leer and grin at me, ye imps of darkness, brood of hell ! 

Chatter and mow ! Twist your features more horribly ! 

Ye cannot frighten me, I stand stock-still, 

Laughing at all your horrors ! 

Whirl about me, imps of the smoky night ! 



234 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

Flap your black wings, dripping with slime and ooze ! 
Breathe on me, ye that have sucked up 
The pestilent fogs of death-valleys ! 
Blow your foul spirits in my face ! 

Eeach at me with your clawed lingers, foul and hardy- 
like! 
Touch me ye cannot, ye hell-brood ! 
For I am sphered about with Spirit ; 
I am surrounded by a veil of bright Light; 
Ye cannot pierce its folds ; 
Back ye are hurled by its bright glory ; 
Back to the hell from which ye came ; 
And I stand stock-still, laughing at all your horrors. 

NIEVANA. 

My soul is stirred by strange forces ; its waters are 

rufl9.ed ; 
Unknown airs blow upon me; a Light breaks from 

above ; 
Fire descends and touches my soul ; 
I am quickened, I am in the Spirit ; 
I commune with higher Being ; 
My soul blends with the Great Soul ; 
I meet and mingle with the Soul of All ; 1 

I am of the World-Soul ; 
Tree and flower and bird are parts of Me; 
I am diffused, expanded, 
I partake of all, and all of Me ; 
In Me float the galaxies, 
My soul gleams in their fires ; 

My Thought is the Law whereby things are and move ; 
I am Truth and Principle ; Being is of Me ; 
The procession of the worlds flows out from Me ; 
I am serene, content, balanced in eternal Best ; 
I desire not, move not ; yet desire and motion are of Me ; 
1 dwell not in Space, yet Space is of Me ; 



SOUL-VOICES. 235 

I am Eternity, yet Time is of Me ; 

I am supreme, yet subject ; 

I command, and am commanded ; 

I pass into worlds, and withdraw again ; 

I am spring and summer, seed and harvest ; 

I am the Life, the Law, the only Thought ; 

I alone Am ; all things are of Me ; 

Life flows out of Me, and returns to Me again ; 

1 am Sound and Silence ; I am Light and Darkness ; 

I am the principle of Growth, whereby things are ; 

I dwell in Immensity, I am Immensity itself ; 

I am the only Eeal ; all things but pictures of Me ; 

He who knows himself as Me is saved ; all else are lost. 

SAD VOICES. 
Voices of the night, chanting the death of Day ; 
Sad-toned, aspirate, moist with tears. 
The shadows, falling, drape all things in mourning ; 
Silence, the only mourner, bewails the departed joy of 

day. 
The sun-god, wantonly kissing his loves, the flowers, 
Making them to blush and droop, 
Has gone, over the hills, to other lands. 
i.n the darkness and mists we are left. 
You and I, sad voices. 
Utter my feelings I cannot, sad voices ; 
But ye shall chant for me and you ; 
Ye shall chant, sad voices, the death of Day and Joy. 
Sad-toned, aspirate, moist with tears. 
Ye, sad voices, shall chant the death of Day. 

TO THE BKIDE OF MY SOUL. 

Thou art mine, my Love ; like supplemental rays 
Thy soul and mine shine forth out of the Infinite. 
Even as twin stars, softly shining. 
Do our souls gleam forth, each the other adorning. 



236 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. 

Mysterious chain, binding our hearts in one ! 

Its links are made of golden thoughts ; 

Its strength is the strength of steel ; 

No instrument can sever it. 

my Love, fair complement of my soul. 

Thou art adorned with modesty as with a mantle ; 

Thou dost radiate purity like the pearl of ocean ; 

Thou art all aglow with light 5 for the Spirit resteth on 

thee, 
And shineth through thy countenance. 
my Love, thou art mine. 
And we like twin stars shall shine on forever. 

SPIEITS OF SONG. 
Come to me now, ye Spirits of Song ! 
Touch my soul with fire from the celestial altars ! 
Descend upon me ; make me fertile of Song ! 
Eise, ye winds and waves of emotion ! 
Shriek and sob, play wild havoc, 
Dash and break upon the shores of sense ! 
Why are ye voiceless, ye Spirits of Song ? 
Why strike ye your harps with muffled hands ? 
Why check ye the flow of feeling ? 
Speak ! Cry out ! Sing, wildly, or what way ye will ! 
Call down lightnings ! Loose whirlwinds ! 
Hurl the mad waves of wrath upon me ! 
Shake the solid continent of Thought ! 
Upheave mountains thereon, and loose the molten waves 

of passion ! 
Why stand ye silent, draped in vacancy ? 
Why carry ye your harps so heavily ? 
Uplift, smite them with wrathful hand ! 
Shrieks were better than dumb and deathly silence ! 
Chant, wildly, or how ye will ! 
Be not silent, for all creation sings ! 
The stars chime wildly in the space-chambers ; 



SOUL-VOICES. 237 

Voices from wrecked worlds, from stars crushed and 

shattered, 
Pierce the spaces ; there is no silence ; 
All is voiceful, all is vibrant with song, peaceful or wild. 
Sing, then, ye Spirits ! Be not silent among the Voices! 
Chant, wildly, or howsoe'er ye will ! 

THE HOME OF THE SOUL. 
Wild light of the sunset sky, 
O where is the home of the Soul ? 
Is it there where the wild light flows 
From out the mysterious Deep, 
Pouring upon the shores 
And the rock-bound shoals of Time ? 
Out of the vast Unknown, 
Out of the soundless Deep, 
Where the wild sky-currents flow. 
And the orbs of space do sweep ? 
Sea of commingled Force, 
Wild winds from wandering stars, 
And the rush and the sweep of worlds, 
Released from the prison bars 
Of Chaos and black Night ; 
Maelstrom of Kosmic Power, 
In which the ships of Time 
Go down to eternal wreck ; 
Art thou the home of the Soul, 
blind and whirling Sea, 
vortex of wild Force, 
O womb of Immensity ? 
Nay ; but I hear a Voice 
Above the wild turmoil. 
The crash and the wreck of worlds, 
The roar of the boundless Sea 
Breaking among the rocks 
On the shore of Immensity : 



238 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

^' Deep in the soundless Sea 
Where the roar of the waves is stilled, 
Beyond the tempest's power, 
In the heart of eternal Peace, 
Is the home of the human Soul ; 
And there, in the arms of Love, 
In the light of perfect Joy, 
Shall dwell the soul of man, 
When its mortal life is done. 
Long is the Way thereto, 
And the senses cannot find 
That mystic winding Path ; 
Out of the sunset gates 
That close on the life of sense, 
Over the hills of the world. 
That glow with the rosy light, 
The Soul that with sense hath done 
Shall tread the illumined Way, 
And, passing the star that shines 
In the western twilight sky. 
Shall reach the Land of Light, 
And dwell in Immensity ; 
One with the Life of All, 
One with the Heart of Love, 
One with the Wise, Good Power 
Which Is, for Eternity." 

LOVE'S BEAUTY. 
O MY ideal love ! Hovering o'er my soul 
Like the fair evening star over the world. 
Fairer than dawn art thou, 
O my fair, lovely one, bride of my soul. 
Part of the Infinite Soul, sharing Its beauty. 
One with the snow-flake, the flower, and the star. 
Part of that fair world-life which, in the soul, painteth its 
beauty. 



SOUL-VOICES. 239 

Star-gleam and water-fall, shimmer of moonbeams on 

billowy sea, 
Dark glance of water where shadows lie deep, 
Waving of meadow grass, swept by the breath of dawn; 
All are but parts of Thee, World-Spirit fair and free, 
Of which my love is the perfectest sign. 

LOVE'S PRESENCE. 

Soft is thy touch, love, sweet is thy presence ; 

Melody wakes in me, heartstrings are gently swept, 

As by a breeze from heaven ; 

Music so soft and sweet, waking the echoes, 

Melting my being in harmony sweet. 

No touch so soft as thine, 

No hand so light as thine, 

No star hath ray like the beam of thine eye. 

No golden moonlight so mellow as that soft light 

Glowing in thy large eyes, fire of the soul. 

Holy and lovely one, soft is thy foot-fall, 

Lovely as dawn is the sight of thy form ; 

Moving so gracefully, gliding so softly, 

Gracing the earth with thy presence so fair. 

THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE LAW. 

High is the chant of the soul 
When the mighty Law is seen ; 
Deep in the Kosmic spaces 
The Truth of the Soul lies hid. 
Sweeter than siren music 
Is the music of that Law 
Which knowing, the soul is wise. 
Out of eternal deeps 
The soul of man came forth ; 
Dazed by Time and the World, 
She loseth her knowledge vast. 
She drinks of the cup of sense, 



240 LIFE AND LIGHT FEOM ABOVE. 

And is drunken with, the wine 

Which pours from the fruit of the world. 

O soul, awake and know 

Thy nature, what it is ; 

Kecall thy old-time wisdom 

When thou dwelt in the heart of God. 

That which thou seest is not ; 

The world is a fading mist ; 

And Truth is the only Keal, 

The knowledge of the Law. 

MIST-DRAPERY. 
Veil of soft beauty, that hast dropped from heaven ; 
Cloud of illusion ; misty robe of light ; 
Melting all objects in a spirit-dream ; 
Garment of the hidden Soul of things ; 
Trailing robe of beauty, heaven-wove. 
Of richest spirit-stuff ; fair work of God, 
Draping the earth with raiment of the soul ! 

LOVE DIVINE. 
O Love that is formless and vast ! 
A Spirit that touches the soul 
With fire from the altars of God ! 
Burns in my breast this pure flame, 
Kindled by unseen hands ; 
Pure as the star-ray from heaven. 
Or the light of the new-breaking dawn. 
Plowers are its messengers fair, 
Birds sing its chant to the soul ; 
The pure breeze of morn is its breath, 
And the silence its presence reveals. 
Dwell with me, Spirit so pure ; 
Habit my heart with thy peace ; 
Let joy and comfort be mine. 
Because of thy presence so sweet. 



SOUL-VOICES. 241 



THE SOUL AND THE WOELD. 

Everything the Soul doth seek 
Hath its pure original 
In the Soul's mysterious deep. 
All things outward but reflect 
The world that is within the Soul. 
Like to like doth ever draw, 
Soul and world are but one fact. 
Beauty doth to beauty seek, 
Truth to truth and love to love ; 
Supplemental, each to each. 
Parts that make one primal whole, 
One within the conscious Soul ; 
Nothing vagrant, all are one. 
One within the conscious Soul. 

NIGHT AND THE SOUL. 
O SOLEMN Night! Thou star-bejeweled ! 
Cloaker of dark Mystery ! 
Secrets of old Time thou hidest 
Deep in thy dark breast. 

Ocean of darkness, surrounding Space and Time, 
Worlds float in thee. 
And the sons of men are thy offspring. 
Cave of winds and storms ; womb of being ; 
How shall I name thee ? 
My soul hides from thee ; 
Thou art too vast for me. 

— Out of Space a Voice speaks, deep and solemn, 
And my soul responds, awe-touched. 
" Spirit of Man," it saith : 
^' Mirror of Day and Night ; 
More capacious than vast Space ; 
Outliving worlds and stars ; 
Shrink not, fear not : Night and Day are but figments ; 



242 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

Their phantasmagoria but vapors of Thought ; 

Lives within thee the true Heaven, spangled with 

Thought ; 
Deep within thee the true Sky, vast dome of thy world. 
Space and Time are but motions of the soul-life within 

thee; 
Waves, rising and falling on the sea of the Soul : 
Out-world but a fiction of the Dream-world within thee ; 
Old Night, sable goddess, robed in Mystery's raiment, 
The forthshadowed dream of thy dark-brooding brain. 
See Thyself pictured alway, in mountain and meadow, 
In forest and stream and the deep-sounding sea ; 
Soul within thee out-painted, on Time's mystic canvas, 
With the pigments of Feeling, the atoms of Thought. 
Thou painter of World-pictures, creator of Space and 

Time, 
Know Thyself for thy World, and all beautiful Forms." 

WONDEE OF THE SOUL. 
Mystery, mystery, saith the soul ; 
None can resolve it ; 

The purpose and meaning of Life on the earth; 
The heart beats, the brain throbs, 
The blood courses warmly, 
Loves and hates play and strive 
In the soul's unknown deeps ; 
Thought, like lightning, flashes, vanishes, 
In the heavens of the Mind. 
Wonder, wonder, fronts the Man-soul ; 
Blazes forth the Life-spirit 
From shrub, grass, and flower ; 
Out of cloud, rock, and tree 
Looketh forth grim Mystery. 

None knoweth, none knoweth life's mystery vast ! 
the world ! the heavens ! 
O the sea's deep cerulean ! 



SOUL-VOICES. 243 

the blue, swimming sky 

With its white, massing clouds ! 

Deep the wonder, the mystery ! 

Deeper the miracle of life in the soul 

Fronting this Wonder and asking for Truth ! 

soul with thy longings for Truth, Good, and Beauty, 

See thy longings achieved in thy oneness with God ; 

Joined to Wisdom Supernal, one with Love, one with 

Beauty, 
Thou shalt find satisfaction, and look on thine own. 

SWIFTER THAK ARROWS FLIGHT. 

MY soul's mate, where art thou now ? 

Vibrating 'tween us, the sensitive currents 

Of life-force are flashing ; seeking each other. 

The opposite currents are throbbing and pulsing. 

Strings are struck wildly ; fire-swept, the harp awakes ; 

Lyric strains rise from it ; air is all dancing 

With melody wild and sweet ; echoes afar are waked ; 

Winds are sound-laden ; sunbeams are burdened. 

With love-pulses vibrating ; forces are wakening. 

Brain-atoms whirling, nerve-centers vibrating, under 

Love's touch. 
Swift are Love's couriers, swift are his messengers ; 
But they are laggards all, when the soul orders. 
Quicker than arrow's flight, swifter than sun-ray's flight, 
Go the desires and longings of Love. 
Past all the boundaries builded by time and space, 
Over the walls of earth, spirit its fellow seeks. 
When shall the walls of time melt in the spirit's light ? 
When shall love find her own, spite of the bounds of 

sense ? 
When shall the soul be free, loosed from the chains of 

sense ; 
Free to go forth and find That on which life depends ? 



244 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

Why should souls parted be, linked by love's ties in one ? 

Shall not all walls be pierced, 

Barriers all burned away by the soul's fire ? 

DUST AND THE SOUL. 

By the moonbeams' mellow light 
I stand beside the graves 
Of the peaceful-sleeping dead : 
Dust of the sleeping dead, 
Vibrant no more with the thoughts 
Of the souls that gave it life. 
Not in the grass-grown grave 
Is the soul that once enchanted 
This silent sleeping dust. 
Gone to its home above, 
Gone to the world of Life, 
Gone to its loving God. 
Mellow the moonlight rests 
Upon the grass-grown graves ; 
White are the marble shafts 
That mark the humble beds 
Where the silent forms do sleep ; 
But light is the world of the soul, 
Glad is its home on high ; 
Peace to the sleeping dead, 
Eor they wake to a life with God. 

OUT OF THE INFINITE. 
Out of the Infinite, slowly emerging. 
Clothed in light, comes the bright soul of Man; 
Glowing with radiance brought from the sphere 
Where Life has its birth; 
Slowly emerging, struggling and fainting, 
Stumbling and falling on earth's stony soil. 
Never forgotten is the land of our infancy, 
Never quite lost is the memory sweet 



SOUL-VOICES. 245 

Of that fair abode where Life came and called us 
To journey awhile on earth's dusty road. 
Sounds of the voices we heard in that country 
Break on the ear in our listening moods ; 
Faint reminiscence of Glory departed 
Rises and fronts us, when out of the world 
For a moment we flee, and list to the voices 
That whisper so softly unto the soul. 
Glory remembered ! vision of Beauty ! 
echo of Truth that once charmed the soul ! 
These are the strength of the buffeted soul ; 
These are the sources of courage and faith. 

NOT IX TIME. 

Not in Time, not in Time, 
Is the burden of my rhyme ; 
Not in houses of poor clay, 
Not in tenements of flesh 
Dwell the Perfect and the True. 
Not in shadows of the deep, 
Not in caves or hidden chasms 
Dwells the Beauty that we seek. 
Not among the fleeting fancies 
Of the sense-world dwells the True. 
Far beyond old Time's horizon. 
Far beyond the farthest shore. 
Out of sight, beyond attaining, 
Lies the Treasure that we seek. 
Truth and Beauty dwell in spirit ; 
Never to the world of sense 
Do these goddesses descend. 
High in upper air they habit, 
With the star-raj^s do they wander, 
With the sparkling orbs of heaven 
Do they find companionship. 
Seek them not, erring mortal. 



246 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

In the world of Things about thee ; 
Never shalt thou see their footprints 
In the shifting sands of Time. 
With the star-rays do they wander, 
With the bright orbs of the heavens 
Do they find companionship. 

NOVEMBER STORM-CLOUDS. 

Sail, ye wild clouds, through the cold sky, 

Swept by the wild winds, hurrying swift ; 

Flecked with a golden light. 

Streaked with blazing bars. 

Pierced by lances of shimmering light ; 

Fly, swiftly fly, through the ether on high, 

Driven by winds through the cold vasty sky. 

Warriors bold and brave, rushing to battle ! 

Gathering ranks of war, marshaled by wind-captains ! 

Mad with wild rage. 

Hurrying, skurrying, Avhirling and flurrying, 

Sweeping across the wild, open sky ! 

Sweeping in mighty ranks through the wild sky ! 

NOVEMBER SUNSET. 
Trees of the wood, their branches up-raising, 
Dark 'gainst the blazing wild western sky. 
Red glows the angry sky. 
Rifted by light-lances 
Hurled by the sun-god back at the world. 
Somber and silent trees, mystery-voicing. 
Nodding their hoary heads, tossed by the breeze. 

THE SOUL'S MYSTERY. 
O THE Soul! World within world ! 
Whence its life ? Whence its action ? 
So unknown to itself, so mysterious and vast ! 
Gleam of light, shot across the blank heavens of darkness ! 



SOUL-VOICES. 247 

Like a shooting star, falling and quenclied in the dark, 

Is the world-life of man, from cradle to grave. 

Vast-reaching, space-surrounding, all-daring, his thought; 

Earth-born, earth-returning, grave-enclosed his flesh. 

Communing in life with gods, 

Mingled at last with worms ; 

Sky-aspiring, earth-conquered ; 

Flame of Light, urn of dust. 

Ah! Mame-spirit, flashing out in the darkness. 

Kindled of the All-Light art thou ; 

Flash and glow, iridescent with beauty, Flame-spirit; 

Thou art born of the Infinite, All-Living Light. 

SUNSET AND THE SOUL. 
Slowly fades the western light, 
Paler growls the western glory ; 
Thoughts mysterious and vast 
Visit me from out the silence — 
Lonely, vast, and awful silence ! 
Wild expanse of tumbled storm-clouds, 
Blushing chastely with the kisses 
Of the sinking sun of glory ! 
Spirit lonely and sublime, 
That paintest all this twilight beauty. 
Dwell with me, a lonely wanderer 
On the troubled shores of Time ! 
I the lonely, I the silent, 
1 the mystery-haunted spirit, 
I the home of cloud-born fancies, 
I the twilight-painted sky — 
Greet thee, Spirit of the twilight, 
Greet thee. Painter of the glory 
That I see in western sky. 
Mystic voices of the silence, 
Spirit forms that float about me. 
Born of storm-tossed, painted clouds, 



248 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

Offspring of the wild, cold storm-liglit, 
Flowing in the western sky ; 
Light that fills the soul with mystery, 
Pouring in from infinite spaces, 
Like the tide-waves of the ocean 
Beating on the shores of Time : 
Soul that frontest all this splendor. 
Thou art all of this, and more ! 

OWEN BEOWN, 

SON OF OLD JOHN BROWN, OF OSSAWATOMIE.^ 

Son of illustrious sire ! 
A prophet of Freedom thou ! 
In the stormy days gone by, 
When the black slave waited long 
For his birthright, Freedom, thou 
Didst raise thy voice and hand 
To give him what he lacked. 
To the muskets' reveille, 
To the music of brave feet 
Tramping the fields of war 
His Freedom-song was sung, 
And thy voice helped to swell 
That chorus to his ears. 
Upon this watch-tower high. 
Heaved up by Almighty Power, 
Thy grave shall a beacon be ; 
And the music of the pine 
That stands by thy lonely grave 
Thy requiem shall be. 
In its surging, ceaseless song 
I hear the songs of the dead ; 
I hear the sighs of the slave, 

1 Written at the grave of Owen Brown, in the Sierra IVIadre Moun- 
tains, near Pasadena, California. 



SOUL-VOICES. 249 

That were changed to exultant shouts ; 

I hear the prayers of the brave, 

Going up from battle-fields 

With the smoke and the noise of strife ; 

I hear the Time-ghost's voice, 

In its whispered, warning tones ; 

And I sense thy spirit's presence 

In the rustle of these boughs. 

Thou art not dead, brave soul, 

But art ever marching on 

With the soul of thy murdered sire, 

To lead the sons of men 

In the battle-fields of life. 

DIVINE POSSESSION. 
What wouldst thou have, aspiring soul ? 

Claim it, for 'tis already thine. 
Thy wish is born of what thou hast, 

Concealed within thy soul divine. 

SPHINX-FACES. 

Queer faces of my comrades, peering into mine, — 

Full of mystery to me, you faces ! 

You do not know that you are ignorant what you are ; 

From you the dream has not departed ; 

Still you sleep, murmuring ; 

Your dreams are troubled, but do not wake you ; 

faces of my comrades, you are Sphinxes unto me ! 

FOB WHOM IS THE UNHEAED SONG? 

SOUL, is thy song unheeded. 
Thy wild harp-notes struck forth 
For the vibrant air alone ? 
Be not cast down, O soul ! 
For whom do the bluebirds sing ? 
For whom do the flowers blow ? 



250 LIFE AND LIGHT FROM ABOVE. 

For wliom is the shattered spray 
Where gleams the seven-hued bow ? 
For whom doth the morning break, 
. And the light burst prison bars ? 
For whom doth the moon walk forth ? 
For whom do the starlights gleam ? 
For whom is the chant of the waves, 
And the wild song of the winds ? 
For whom is the song of day, 
Eising from myriad tongues ; 
From the woods and the verdant fields. 
From the hills and the winding vales ? 
For whom is the bending grass, 
And the waving yellow corn, 
And the song of birds at dawn, 
And the voices of the night 
That rise from the sleeping world ? 

soul, be not cast down ! 

Thy song is a chord in these, 

The harmony of life 

That rises from the world ; 

And each for the other is. 

And each to the other sings. 

And all are the gladness of the world. 

The chant of eternity. 

Be not cast down, my soul, 

But sing thy song in peace ; 

The God that is over all 

Hath granted thee to sing. 

And the music of thy soul 

In the harmony of life 

Shall rise to the Oversoul, 

The Master of us all. 



016 




